


Higher Gravity

by PoorQueequeg



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorQueequeg/pseuds/PoorQueequeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock's expression is blank but when he touches her Nyota can feel the heat of his desire for her pouring off him, how much he wants her, how much he loves her. To Humans his world seems a barren, forbidding place but pulled in by its higher gravity Nyota finds herself unable to escape it. She finds doesn't really want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks. It's been a while since I've posted. Life and such. I started this fic over a year ago but haven't been able to post until now because of reasons. I have rescued it dusted it off and am writing like a crazy person because I have never quite gotten over this story. Updates will be as frequent as I can manage but I apologize in advance that it may not be quick as I know you'd like...I have to factor in work etc but rest assured new chapters will follow soon. For now, I hope you enjoy. I would like to dedicate this to LambsEar in homage of her upcoming baby bearing. Much love to her! Peace and Long Life, PQ xxx

Nyota is listening to music and spinning on her tip toes in Spock's kitchen when he finds her, oblivious to his presence as she hums along. He watches her for a moment as she stretches an elegant leg behind her in a ballet pose, her hands gripping the handles of the cabinets on the wall as she glances across the shelves in search of the tea. She jumps when she sees him, putting her hand to her chest and taking a melodramatic gasp of breath.

"Oh you scared me," she chuckles, pulling her earphones out. Spock watches her with a mild expression as she sets down the tea leaves and turns to get a cup off the drainer. "You want a cup?" He nods and steps closer.

"I have been thinking," he tells her in a low, soft voice.

"Hmm mmm," she chirps, glancing up at him through the hair that hangs across her face.

"Would you come to Vulcan with me?" Nyota freezes for a moment, spoon hovering above the tea caddy. "There are many things I would like to show you." Nyota blinks and a bashful smile spreads across her face.

"I...I would love to."

It takes some planning and Nyota suspects, some finagling on Spock's part but several weeks later they are on a shuttle on their way through the atmosphere. The journey itself takes no time at all at warp but going through security at the orbital hub above the Earth takes forever. It doesn't help that Spock is also transporting a large box and that the box is going to Shi-Kahr while they are going to Vulcana Regar and the Human at the desk is a particularly dense specimen of his race. Spock has an itinerary planned for their visit, all the things he wants to show her. They're starting in Vulcana Regar and making their way to Shi-Kahr via Gol.

She's excited.

Nyota has been to Vulcan before, years ago when she was at school but the trip was highly structured and quite restrictive and her Vulcan was bad in those days. This time she's fluent, she's got her own personal tour guide and she won't be staying in sterile air conditioned accommodations but real Vulcan homes, as a Vulcan would. On the transport Spock presses a hypo to her neck and she dips her head in embarrassment, the only Human in a carriage full of Vulcans. She feels the gravity the minute they step into the hub over Vulcan and she tries not to let it show how totally weird it feels. In the shuttle on the way down to the planet Spock quietly presents her with a gift of some quite stylish and expensive looking sunglasses. Nyota tries not to smile as she accepts them but then the smile fades a little when she remembers how much she's going to stick out in a crowd when she's wearing them.

"The radiation from the sun will damage your eyes," Spock reminds her gently. "Although it will be dark when we arrive." She nods, tucks them into her pocket and brushes her fingers over her hair to make sure her ears are hidden while reminding herself to not emote too much. She's on Vulcan now. As it turns out most Vulcans in this region are so dark they are almost purple but Nyota still feels self conscious about her stubby round ears and her gently sloping brows even though with her hood up, she's virtually indistinguishable from a Vulcan. Nyota knows it's going to be hot because Spock warned her that they happen to have come at the hottest time of the year, that it couldn't be helped. She hasn't noticed yet because they're underground and it's air conditioned although it's cooled to Vulcan comfort and it still feels like Nairobi on a sunny day but that's fine by her, she likes it that way. Spock carries their cases and she trails along beside him, distracted by absolutely everything even though so far there really hasn't been that much to see. They are going to take the subterranean transit because he says it is logical although she suspects it's because she commented previously that she thinks public transport is the best way to see a city. The car is fairly empty when the get on at the shuttleport but as it moves through the city it gets fuller and fuller and fuller and even though the sun hasn't been down that long, it seems that Vulcana Regar comes alive at night.

They are greeted at their destination by Varel, who is Spock's cousin three times removed on his paternal grandmother's side and he looks nothing like Spock. His skin is dark and his face is wizened, his salt and pepper hair cropped close against his head and exaggerating his pointed ears. Vulcans are apparently genealogy nerds and if you have family somewhere you don't stay in a hotel and Nyota thinks this is great because Varel's house is like nothing she's ever seen.

"Welcome to my home," Varel intones. Nyota bows and makes the appropriate gestures of greeting, grateful that etiquette dictates her silence and thinking that perhaps it's actually quite a good idea. Why provoke an emotional response from people in a situation like this? Why not just spare the bullshit and say nothing? Varel however immediately confounds her expectations because while he's reserved and unexpressive he's not cold like all the stereotypes of their race. His movements are easy, louche even as he leads them down the stairs into a cool dark cave and into a dim passage in the rock.

They are sharing a room and Nyota is surprised although she's not entirely sure why she should be because Spock held her hand in public and she knows what that means on Vulcan even if she doesn't mention it. It's lovely, sparsely decorated but cosy, the walls curving softly into one another. The bed is carved out of the red rock of the desert and there are no windows but then she remembers that this is a subterranean cave and that they are deep beneath the surface. Spock places a gentle hand on her shoulder and tells her to rest. She takes a deep breath, feeling a bit strange from the thin dry air she finds herself breathing.

"Are you unwell?" Spock asks, gently clasping her shoulders and peering into her eyes. He's checking her pupils and a moment later his hands slide down to squeeze her wrist. Nyota rolls her eyes a little, feeling her pulse flutter against his fingertip.

"I'm fine, really," she assures him. "I'm just...excited." Spock nods gently and when she looks in his eyes they seem somehow blacker and more alien than usual.

Spock hustles her into a side chamber where there is a basin and a jug of water waiting for them. After a quick wash, they change and emerge to find Varel in the kitchen making tea. When they enter he bows slowly to Nyota before offering her a glass which she accepts with a bow of her own and feels his eyes on her as she sips it, flushing a little under his appraisal. The tea is unbelievably sour but it must have something going for it because she feels instantly more awake. Varel tells her he is preparing a meal and would they like to join him and asks her if she cooks. Nyota replies that she does and when she offers to help he accepts. Spock sits quietly, sipping tea and watching them with twinkling eyes.

Cooking is interesting, Varel is so precise in his movements and when the dish is finally presented it's so simple and elegant it's almost zen. The food is tasty, not at all like she expected from hydroponically grown proteins, it's spicy and sour and she feels like it's cooling her down from the inside out. Varel is reserved as she expected him to be and she makes an effort to be on her best behaviour. It's worth it because she thinks he melts a little in her company and he asks her all sorts of questions about her work and her family while Spock observes with silent pride. Varel goes on to say that his daughter lives in Shi-Kahr and his son is currently in the Forge pursuing the Kolinar. Varel himself is a chemical mineralogist and explains that is the main industry of this region although there are also several highly regarded academic institutions in the province. Nyota nods and gives him her full attention because it is fascinating to talk to a Vulcan, a real, normal Vulcan and he's not at all like the stereotypes. He's gentle, quiet but not snooty or condescending and when he asks her about Human customs he isn't judgemental in the least.

After the meal, Varel explains he must return to work and with a brief farewell disappears through the door. When he's gone Nyota turns to Spock and gives him a little smile, squeezing her hand as she speaks.

"He's really nice," she says shyly. Spock does not smile but he nods in agreement.

"We are not well acquainted but I must concur," he replies. Nyota blinks and stares at an engraving in the wall as she takes in what he's said. Spock barely knows this man to whom he is apparently related and yet he's welcomed them into his home as though he's not put out in the least and what is more surprising to her is that somehow, she doesn't feel awkward at all. She feels a little more awkward a minute later however when Spock takes her hand and leads her back towards the bedroom.

"We should meditate," he tells her and Nyota furrows her brow. She can't meditate, she wants to go out and explore, she can't help it, she's Human. Spock hustles her towards the bed and when he pushes, she flops limply against the mattress. She's embarrassed because she knows what Vulcans say about Humans, how they are slaves to their emotions, how they indulge their animal passions and she doesn't want Varel to think the same about her.

Spock is undeterred and reminds her that she is Human. She bites her lip and tries to be quiet but he makes it difficult.

Afterwards, Nyota lies on the bed neither asleep nor awake and the only sound she can hear is her own breath and the thrum of her heartbeat in her ear. When she finally opens her eyes she turns her head to see Spock sitting in meditation pose across the room and he's so still it's like he's part of the rock. She watches him for a long time without moving.


	2. Chapter 2

When Spock eventually rises, he makes her drink a large glass of water and pricks her with the hypo again. Nyota chuffs out a little breath through her nose but says nothing, letting him lead her up the stairs towards the front door. The heat hits them like a wall and Nyota blows over her face. The street, like Varel's home, is a cave and the city is a rock in the desert, like Uluru in Australia but vast and ragged and blood red. Varel's neighborhood is very quiet but as they wander into the city they run into an ever increasing number of people, it's not silent exactly but everyone is speaking quietly and noone is rushing except for a brief moment when they see two small children running and she feels oddly relieved by it.

They walk along an avenue of buildings with glittering fronts of polished stone and bright lights, small spindly trees void of blossoms lining the path and it's clean and it's open and she's already impressed not least of all because people say that noone on Vulcan locks their doors. When they come to the end of the row, she peers out over the ledge and her mouth falls open at the vista that is revealed. Towering above and dropping far below is an entire city cut into the earth, the night sky just visible through a narrow gap in the rock above. It extends for miles in both directions disappearing as the rock curves, the wide expanse between either side criss-crossed with broad bridges. It's noisier here but nothing like Earth, it's more the hum of turbolifts whizzing up and down and the vague whistle of the breeze and perhaps, she's not sure, but she thinks she hears the distant strains of a lyre.

"Wow," she comments, turning to Spock. He seems...unimpressed.

He is a little more enthusiastic when they get where they are going, Nyota can tell from the twinkle in his eye although he's actually being quite reserved. This shouldn't surprise her, she thinks, they are on Vulcan after all.

Spock leads her into a gleaming turbolift and she's not sure how far down they go but her ears pop and when they exit she's stunned again. It's so beautiful, green moss sprawling up the walls of the cavern where thin streams of water flow down the rock. It's cooler here too but not air conditioned and actually she likes it better that way. There are trees although there is no blossom because it's the wrong time of year but it's still lovely. In some places the walls of the cavern are carved and painted, sometimes the bright colors are faded with age and Nyota wonders how long people have lived here.

When Spock tells her she feels very very unimportant.

As they walk she sees people sitting at stone tables, old men and women playing Kal Toh or chess or just conversing in quiet voices. A father and child sit together talking about something and even though the child is not smiling Nyota gets the strong impression that she's content because she has this look in her eye that she's seen on small children a hundred times. There are strange smells on the breeze, damp stone, moss, incense, wax and maybe the smell of something cooking?

Spock leads her but at a gentle pace so that she can get a good look around and if he notices people looking at her he doesn't mention it. She feels self conscious even if she is wearing a Vulcan robe and she thinks this must be what it's like for him on Earth, always standing out in a crowd no matter what. Here however Spock seems completely in his element, she's never seen him so dispassionate and it's strange.

She stops thinking about it when he leads her through a tall carved archway in the rock and up some steps towards a set of heavy ornate doors. Spock hovers beside her and gently tugs her hood up before doing likewise with his own and she lets her eyes flit over his handsome face. His action feels very tender and he blinks at her lazily. Nyota wants to smile but she doesn't, just blinks slowly back and follows him inside. They slip through a smaller open doorway set into one of the larger doors and they find themselves in a cave...no, not a cave, a cathedral. It's stunning.

The walls are lined with a bright marble-like rock and the floor is cut out of the very same substance, highly polished and smooth. There are massive lanterns hanging on long cables from the high vaulted ceiling above and it's dazzling, light reflecting off every surface. Ahead of them are seated odd rows of people of indeterminate sex, their heads covered with their hoods and some of them are murmuring in very low voices. The scent of incense is thick in the air and at the far end is some kind of altar cut into the stone, dozens of smaller nooks with lanterns and tiny statues. Above it is a strange pattern that looks quite like a tree and as she peers at it she realizes it's High Vulcan calligraphy. It's gorgeous but it's what lies in the caverns beyond really amazes her.

The only way she can describe it is like being inside an enormous geode and the crystals are huge. They are like pillars that jut up at odd angles out of the floor and the walls and the air feels comparatively damp, not like outside. The air smells funny, almost chemical and there's an charge in the air like just before a thunderstorm. Some of the crystals are carved with the same calligraphy as the atrium but the language is ancient and obscure and she can't read it. There are a few people walking along the route as they pass out of the first chamber and down the sloping path to the second she notices the occasional figure tucked away into the odd carved nook, meditating. As they walk, she is aware of a very quiet and very distant trickle of water. The first chamber is a palette of reds and the next one is a hundred shades of orange that she never knew existed. The one after however is easily her favorite, a bright electric blue shocking against the red rock behind and it takes her breath away. When she looks up at Spock he's watching her with a gentle gaze and she tries not to smile, her lips twitching.

"Wow," she mouths, almost afraid to speak. He blinks at her and tilts his head and they continue.

The path slopes downward as they move through the caverns and eventually the crystals begin to thin out and in the distance she can hear a gentle rumbling sound. The air grows moist and it's starting to get hot and in the tunnel ahead the red stone is glowing. They turn a corner and a wave of steam shocks her. They stand on a ledge high above a steaming pool of water that pouring out of a crevasse in the rock above. An underwater hot spring, she muses, there would have to a reason why people live here. They don't stay long because it's too hot and frankly a little bit frightening – at least until she accidentally kicks a tiny pebble on the path and an invisible forceshield spits it back at her. Spock is almost smirking at her even though she hasn't said a word the whole time they've been here.

When they finally emerge onto the street some time later, it's like a different world. Inside the caverns it felt so ancient and sacred, you could almost taste it on the back of your tongue. Out here however it's bustling and noisy, turbolifts and shuttles whooshing past in all directions, people loitering by public access terminals that are speaking back to them in odd computerized Vulcan. Rush hour, Nyota thinks. As they walk she locks eyes with a teenage boy in his school uniform on his way home. He stares at her with a look that isn't a million miles away from the way Spock looks at her sometimes and she drops her eyes to the ground and sinks her teeth into her lip.

Spock has been explaining to her the geological processes behind the crystals, about how the caverns were once gas bubbles in the molten rock and how they were considered a holy site for the ancients. She listens with interest as he talks and when he asks how she is feeling, assures him she is fine. His eyes flick up and down her and he makes her stop for tea, getting her to eat this weird kind of sweet that's kind of gelatinous and not actually that sweet but when she's finished she has to admit she feels better.

"It will soon be dawn," Spock tells her. "Would you like to visit the surface?" She would.

When they reach the surface and step out onto the sand, the sun is threatening behind the horizon and it's already getting warmer. Spock hovers close beside her and fairly glowers at a weird lizard thing that scurries over the rocks, perching on a ledge and watching them with predatory eyes. It's so small Nyota thinks it can't be much of a threat until Spock informs her the venom in it's teeth will turn her leg green. She shudders.

Nyota stares for a long time at the never ending expanse of nothing that stretches out before them. Above the stars are still visible but she can't recognize any of the constellations. Spock raises his finger and points.

"That is Sol," he says and she smiles. "This desert is called the Nehfur," Spock continues quietly. "In ancient times it was called 'the worst place the gods created'." Nyota looks him in the eye as he speak and nods in acknowledgement before turning back to the emptiness around them. "It was in fact an ocean during a previous geological age," he continues and she feels oddly relieved by seeing his scientific self re-emerge. "You may be able to see the white columns that are dotted at intervals across the sand," he says and she squints into the half light of dawn.

"Ah...vaguely," she replies and Spock blinks at her gently.

"They are mineral deposits formed by the evaporation of the ocean," he explains and she nods. "You wonder how anyone could live here?" Nyota furrows her brow and thinks about the city hidden beneath the sand.

"Actually...no," she replies honestly.

When the sun eventually peeks over the horizon Spock hurriedly escorts her back underground and by the time the reach entrance in the rock, Nyota can already feel the heat scorching against her back. She realizes that it's going to get so hot that there is realistically nothing that can be done during the daylight. In the privacy of their room, she sits at the foot of the bed and smiles sleepily at Spock.

"Those caves are amazing," she tells him. "If you were on the surface you'd never imagine what was beneath." He kisses her softly on the mouth and helps her get undressed, giving her another tri-ox shot and when she wakes up alone a long time later, she doesn't even remember saying goodnight.

It's dark and airless, uncomfortably hot and when she realizes she's alone she sits upright, suddenly wide awake. Distantly she hears a low, soft hum wafting along the caverns and slowly, silently, she slips along the passage and peeks around the gap in the rock at the room beyond. On the floor at the far side of the cave Spock and Varel are sitting opposite one another beneath an engraving in the wall, a firepot flickering between them and a trail of incense floating up to the ceiling in a long smoky line. Varel is holding something in his hand, she can't really see it clearly and with his other he's running some kind paddle around and around the edge creating a quiet, high pitched hum. A singing bowl, Nyota realizes and as soon as she figures out that they are meditating she slips quietly back to the bedroom.

She lies there for a long time, tossing and turning and feeling really quite odd, blaming it on the thin air. Eventually she falls back into a fitful sleep and when she wakes again Spock has returned. He's lying on his side beside her and she can feel his eyes even in the dark.

"Are you awake?" she whispers and he shifts.

"I am," he replies and she feels his hand trail gently down the side of her face.

"What time is it?"

"The sun is past its highest point," Spock tells her cryptically and she nods in the darkness. A minute later Spock moves and turns on a small lamp beside the bed. When he rolls back to her, she smiles at him.

"Do we have to make breakfast?" she asks. "What do they call it here?" Spock's brow twitches and he follows the trail of his finger down her arm.

"It is called...first meal," he says but he's not really invested in the conversation, Nyota can tell. "It is not expected for some time yet." Nyota nods and closes her eyes as Spock slips closer and she figures it must be the heat and the dry Vulcan air making him frisky.

Nyota is grateful for his Vulcan stamina because she struggles to keep up. Her limbs feel heavy and when she straddles him, she feels dizzy and breathless. Spock is always so careful and gentle with her and this time, though he's not exactly rough there's something different about the way he touches her. She ends up on her hands and knees, choking for breath into the pillow as his hands hold her so tightly she can't move. He's always hot but now he's scorching and for the first time in her life she actually quivers.

Afterwards she lies in a boneless heap on the bed while he sits beside her, gently brushing her hair back from her face. His expression is totally blank but when he touches her she can feel the heat of his desire for her pouring off him, how much he wants her, how much he loves her. She closes her eyes and stays like that for a long time, wallowing in his silent affection.

Breakfast is placid and polite, Spock cooks it and she picks up after him because she's never seen half those ingredients before. Varel enquires about their plans and Spock tells him of their intention to visit the ruins at Gol. Varel nods and sips his tea. Before they leave Nyota presents him with a Japanese chawan and a pot of ceremonial green tea by way of thanks. Varel stares at it for a long moment and when he thanks her, he tells her that her presence has been like the soothing shade of a blossoming bough in the sun. Nyota is struck dumb.


	3. Chapter 3

Even if it was very quiet and ludicrously hot, Nyota was impressed with Vulcana Regar – she doesn't think she'll ever forget the sight of those caves or Varel's kind face. On the shuttle to Gol, Nyota stares through the window and watches the endless dunes slide by beneath. Spock assures her she will find Gol far more interesting and it doesn't take long for her to see that he's right. Vulcana Regar is an old city but these days it's mostly an industrial hub where Vulcan's mineral wealth is mined and converted for use in high tech applications used across the Federation. Shi-Kahr is famous as the seat of power and learning but Gol is truly ancient and is where everything else happens. It circles the shore of a sea called, logically enough, The Sea of Gol and although by Earth standards it's very small it's a shock to the system after the blistering heat of Vulcana Regar. To the east lie the ruins of Ancient Gol, famously destroyed millenia ago and beyond that the Plains of Gol and the famous Mount Seleya that stands at the edge of the Llangon mountains.

T'Ayin means desert flower in old Golic and Nyota thinks it's apt because Spock's cousin is really really pretty and very softly spoken. If she were Human Nyota would guess T'Ayin was in her mid to late thirties but she's not Human so Nyota suspects she is probably as old as her own mother. Unlike the cave dwellers in the North, Golannsu live mostly on the surface and T'Ayin takes them to her apartment on the 30th floor of a glittering tower block. Calling it an apartment is mis-selling it Nyota thinks because it's massive and covers an entire floor of the building. It's circled by a broad balcony that is wider at one end and covered with ornamental shrubs and even though it's shimmering and modern it still feels old. T'Ayin lives there with her husband and three children and when they enter they are immediately greeted by Soraya who might just be cutest child Nyota has ever seen. She looks to be between two to three Earth years old but must definitely be older than that and has the most adorable squeaky childish voice. Nyota practically melts when she hears her speak.

"Your ears are funny," Soraya tells her and T'Ayin actually looks abashed. Nyota wants to laugh but she's not certain her hosts would approve of her doing so in front of the child. Laughter is an obscenity on Vulcan, something noone admits to doing outside of the bedroom if they admit that they do it at all.

Inside they encounter Sorn, T'Ayin's husband and Somik, their baby son who is strapped into a high chair gurgling loudly. He is holding a spoon and kicking his arms and legs out and straining in his seat and when he sees his mother he starts to shout enthusiastically.

"Ko-ko-ko-ko-meeeehk," he babbles, throwing the spoon across the room. T'Ayin dips her head bashfully and approaches him with two fingers extended. As soon as his tiny hand wraps around them he falls quiet and Nyota watches in awe as the two of them communicate silently.

"Welcome," Sorn says addressing Spock. "Welcome," he repeats to Nyota with a slight bow. T'Ayin is getting Somik out of his chair and Sorn turns to her abruptly. "Your return is timely, dear one," he utters and although he's placid by Human standards, Nyota still senses the exasperation of someone who has been stuck indoors with two small children. T'Ayin approaches carrying Somik and touches two fingers to her husband's extended hand. Somik is staring at Nyota and reaches out to touch her. Nyota looks at T'Ayin who nods gently in encouragement and when she raises two fingers for him to touch, Somik squeals with bashfulness for a second before hiding his face in his mother's neck instead . Nyota's face screws up imperceptibly as she tries to quash her response, she can't help herself. His little ears are so cute.

"You are not usual," Soraya tells her and Nyota peers down to find the girl looking up at her with a wide eyed gaze.

"No I am not," she replies gently.

Soraya escorts them to their room, assisted by her minion Sorn and Nyota knows Daddy's Little Princess when she sees it. She's amused and comforted by the very idea and her nose wrinkles slightly as she suppresses her smile at how utterly cute it all is while Soraya shows them around their accommodations.

"You may sleep here," she says pointing at the bed. "This is a chair where you can sit if you wish," she adds, touching the arm of a chair. "This is area is for quiet not-thinking," Soraya tells them as she stops beside a small shrine in the corner, adopting what she probably thinks is a serious and thoughtful expression.

"We are well situated," Spock tells the little girl and Nyota figures that is stock response because Soraya crosses her arms and hides her hands in her sleeves before bowing in front of him. Spock responds in kind.

"You are acceptable," Soraya informs Spock haughtily before adopting a dignified air and leading them back out into the main living space. Spock gives her a sideways glance and she tries not to smile.

They drink tea together, sitting on low slung couches by a tall window. Nyota glances out across the city and the unusually blue sky that reflects off the sea, very different from the burnt umber of Vulcana Regar. In the distance though she can see a band of dirty orange cloud that obscures the horizon.

"There is an eighty seven percent probability of atmospheric disturbance occurring within the next diurnal cycle," Sorn comments and Nyota turns to meet his eyes with interest. "This region is prone to extreme electromagnetic phenomena during this season. Hot air is drawn down from the Nehfur and combines with the cooler air over the sea to create violent weather systems." Nyota nods and suppresses the instinct to crow about how cool storms are and says instead:

"I should be most interested to witness such an event." Sorn blinks and dips his head in acknowledgement.

"What are your intentions during your stay?" T'Ayin asks, placing onto a plate one of those weird gelatinous sweets Spock made Nyota eat in Vulcana Regar. She sets it down in front of her daughter who is ducking up and down in her chair although obviously not as wildly as a Human child would. Nyota can't help but think that if she were a Human she'd be chattering or singing or making some vaguely childish noise. Instead she just twitches with energy and enthusiastically eats her sweet. Nyota accepts a sweet of her own because Spock has been quietly nagging her to keep eating and drinking, that in this atmosphere she can't be as birdlike with her food as she is on Earth or her electrolytes will go haywire. She sips a glass of sweet red tea and stays silent while Spock replies.

"Nyota has expressed a desire to visit the old city," Spock tells his cousin. "I had also considered the museum of decorative arts and design."

"Do you think that your companion might be interested that?" T'Ayin ask, giving her a sideways glance. Spock's brow twitches.

"Indeed. I believe that Nyota may also wish to avail herself of other less academic pursuits for which the city is renowned."

"What pursuits might those be?" Nyota interrupts politely and T'Ayin looks at her with a twinkle in her eye.

"Acquisition, of course," she replies. Nyota thinks she finds T'Ayin highly acceptable.

Spock insists that she rests and Nyota is embarrassed but she doesn't argue because she knows he's only looking out for her health. She stands limply as he jabs her with the hypo yet again and as she rubs the side of her neck, she gets the impression that he quite enjoys it. She pulls off her clothes and lies on the bed in her underwear, not quite sleeping but not quite awake either. Her limbs are heavy and she feels that strange almost feverish sense of unreality return in full force, wondering idly if Spock is drugging her with the hypos. She chews on disgusting mineral supplements she was given by medical before they left Earth and turns onto her side, looking out at the late afternoon sky behind the city, a metallic taste like blood in her mouth.

She doesn't realize she's been asleep until she wakes up and she feels like she has sand in her brain. She forces herself into the shower but Vulcan showers are really weird and the water is more like a mist than the heavy spray you find on Earth. Desert planet, she reminds herself as she dries off. At any rate it has the desired effect because she feels much better.

When she emerges from the bedroom she can hear snippets of a conversation. From across the living space she spies T'Ayin in the kitchen in conversation with someone who is not quite a child but not quite a teenager either. Through the window she sees Spock and Sorn on the balcony talking animatedly to one another. Soraya is standing between them staring up at Spock with interest, her tiny hands gripping the hem of his robe.

"I am reasonably informed that such a creature can adequately be maintained in an abode of this size," the not-quite-a teenager tells his mother wisely. His mother is spooning something bright purple from a tin into a pan.

"Sehlats require considerable exercise. In the wild their territories span several square kellicams," T'Ayin replies.

"I would be willing to dedicate considerable time to ensuring its needs are met," the boy assures her.

"It is not logical to keep an animal of that nature in a domicile such as this," his mother tells him and before he can reply T'Ayin turns and sees Nyota hovering in the corner. "I trust you are well rested," she says, her tone indicating she is grateful for the distraction. The boy turns to look at Nyota and when he sees her, he seems to tense suddenly. Nyota approaches cautiously and bows at him gently. He swallows and bows back as his mother introduces them.

Tarik is at that age between childhood and adolescence and Nyota thinks she can see the handsome man he's no doubt going to turn into if his father is any guide. He's dark and olive skinned and she wonders if Spock was as cute at that age and how closely related these cousins are. She could ask but she doesn't and she isn't sure why. At dinner Tarik sits across from her and every time Nyota looks at him he seems suddenly to find his food utterly fascinating. His mother notices and informs Nyota that Tarik scores in the ninetieth percentile in his Standard class, giving her son a pointed look.

"My mother is correct," Tarik tells her sheepishly in adorably accented Standard. Nyota reins in her smile.

"I would be happy to converse with you if you believe it would be of benefit," she tells him gently and damn her if his ears don't go bright green.

"That is acceptable," he squeaks before stuffing a heap of some leafy purple vegetable into his mouth and looking away. At that moment Soraya emits a startled gasp and everybody turns to see a morsel of the highly agreeable seasoned mycoprotein slip off her plate and onto the floor. Soraya screws her face up as she wills herself not to get upset. Nyota observes as Sorn silently and gently brushes the back of her hand with his fingers and Soraya relaxes. A few minutes later, when the conversation has turned to other matters Nyota notices out of the corner of her eye as Sorn discreetly relocates a piece of mycoprotein from his plate onto his daughter's and the two exchange a muted gaze of mutual adoration. Nyota starts to feel uncharacteristically broody.

It's evening and Nyota is a little discombobulated by the change in timezones between San Francisco and Vulcana Regar and Gol, of switching her body clock from day to night and back to day. Spock excuses them and takes her out for a walk by the water and she revels in the warm breeze that blows in off the sea, delicious after the brutal heat of Vulcana Regar. The waves lap gently at the shore and she's reminded of Mediterranean coast of North Africa, the sea, the palms and the dusty desert beyond.

The night is dark and there is of course no moon but the path is lit by lanterns. Nyota wants to ask about his family, about the children and the intimacy they've seen that isn't supposed to exist between Vulcans but she thinks somehow that mentioning it is worse than seeing it. She feels silly because she knows that he feels, that he is capable of emotion and wonders if she has spent all this time truly believing that it comes from his Human half when he's so very Vulcan. Perhaps he senses it because as they walk Spock tells her more of T'Ayin and her family, of how she lived in Shi-Kahr before she was married and looked after him when he was small. Vulcans don't pursue happiness in their lives, they pursue meaning and it always seemed to her like he had lived such a lonely life but she sees now that that is not entirely true and she likes T'Ayin more and more.

Spock stoops and cautiously picks up a shell that has washed up onto the shore, turning it over in his hands to reveal a shock of pearlescent green underneath. "Quite rare," he tells her and she nods with interest. "We will keep it," he adds with a sly half wink before hiding it in his pocket. Nyota grins.

"Do people swim?" Nyota asks as they walk.

"It is not unheard of but Vulcans are not keen swimmers as a rule," he tells her, his fingers curling into hers as they drift into a secluded area away from prying eyes. Nyota squeezes his hand and watches him through her lashes as he speaks. "The upthrust is sufficient due to the high salinity of the water but Vulcan higher body mass requires greater expenditure of energy in water." She nods and turns her head towards a noise on the rocks. "Also there are dragons." Nyota laughs silently as they come to a halt and Spock moves behind her, putting his arms around her waist as they watch the reptiles lumbering over the rocks. She's glad for the protective gesture because they are the size of crocodiles and their eyes are just as evil.

"Are they venomous?" she asks and Spock nods. "Is everything venomous here?" Spock tilts his head to one side.

"Not everything no but many things," he tells her. "Certain evolutionary ancestors of Vulcans have been found to have venom sacs in their jaws." Nyota shifts in his arms and turns to face him.

"I guess that explains the biting," she quips playfully, pressing her finger to the tip of his nose. Spock blinks at her slowly and draws her closer, pressing his cheek against hers and holding her to him. Nyota closes her eyes and revels in his embrace, kissing him timidly in the shelter of the rocks.

The wind changes and the air grows tenser (the air on Vulcan is always tense she thinks), the reptiles shuffle away and in the distance Nyota can hear the soft rumble of distant thunder over the soft slough of the waves.

"We should go," Spock intones sombrely.

"I love storms," she tells him gleefully and he looks at her intently.

"This storm is not like anything you will find on Earth," Spock says, tugging her hood over her head and leading her back towards the road as the wind picks up.

Vulcans don't lie.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed listening to the sound of the thunder outside and it is truly terrifying. She understands why people in times gone by thought there was someone up in heaven throwing bolts down to the ground and whoever is up there now is really fucking pissed. A heavy duty metal shutter blocks the window to their room but at her insistence Spock opens it so that she can see the storm raging outside. The sky is shimmering beyond the balcony where the sand whips violently against the forceshield that covers the building. Nyota swallows as she remembers that they are 30 stories high and tries to imagine the size of the storm. Bolts of lightning arc through the sky over and over and when one snaps against the shield there is a brief blinding flash.

Through the bedroom door she hears quiet footsteps, first one way and then the other. She imagines Sorn cradling his little princess in his arms and taking her into bed with him and her mother. She snuggles closer to Spock. It's frightening but exhilarating at the same time and although he was right that the storm was not like anything she'd ever seen, she still thinks it's awesome in every sense of the word. Spock nuzzles her shoulder, his chin scratchy with stubble and she feels frail and feminine in his arms. She lies flat on her stomach as he crawls over her, his hands on her hips as his teeth press against the back of her neck. He doesn't bite exactly, holding his mouth on her in a toothy grip and she thinks about what he told her about venom sacs. His breath is ragged and stuttering and she feels him hard against her. She protests, she tells him they can't because of his family and the children and she's embarrassed because she's certain they'll know. Maybe it's the storm, she muses, or the heat or the air, she doesn't know what it is but when he turns her over and molests her anyway she bites him. Spock is always bossy and amorous because he's a man and he's in his prime but he's been different since they've been here. She's been different, she is different – she is... not usual. Everywhere they've gone she's felt eyes on her, the boy in Vulcana Regar, the passengers on the shuttle, the lizard in the desert and it's unsettling. The air is so different, she feels so feeble that everything is a challenge and there are moments when she thinks everything is out to get her. The dragons on the rock, the burning heat of the sun on her neck, the lightning storm outside. A shock of electricity on the forceshield illuminates the room and when she sees Spock's black eyes peering down at her she feels like he's the predator and she's the prey but then he kisses her. He whispers in her ear in his familiar brogue that there are things that they can do which do not leave evidence and she giggles and thinks maybe the thin atmosphere is making her delirious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with Vulcan geography, history and culture in this fic. Don't flame me, just try and enjoy your vacation. xxxxx

When she wakes, it's quiet outside and Spock is sitting in the corner meditating. She watches him without moving, the pale outline of his skin just visible in the darkness, the taste of him still lingering in her mouth. Eventually he stirs and presses a kiss to her lips before he leads her into the bathroom. They prepare breakfast as is expected of them and Soraya stuffs it gleefully into her mouth but Nyota is not sure if it is because Spock's cooking is good or if it's because the little girl is in love with him. She suspects a little of both. As they are cleaning up she notices Tarik on the balcony, touching his hand against the pot plants and jerking backwards sharply but then he goes back and does it again. T'Ayin urges her to go outside and see what he is doing and Spock seems to be smirking which makes Nyota suspicious but she goes anyway.

"I have been told to come and see what you are doing," Nyota tells him in Standard, remembering their agreement. Tarik shifts a little and when he responds she's touched as an adult woman is when an adolescent boy is trying to impress her.

"Put your hand here," he says in his sweet accent, pointing at metal lantern fixed against the wall between two shrubs but not getting very close. She looks at the lantern and back at Tarik and back at the lantern before stepping closer and raising her hand. There is a loud snap and a sharp jolt and she squeaks, jumping back a step as a small blue arc spits at her from the lamp.

"Oh my!" she gasps in surprise, shaking her hand to restore the feeling in her fingers. When she looks at Tarik his cheeks are flushed green with embarrassment and she tries reel in her emotional response but then she realizes it's actually because he's trying not to laugh at her.

"Luminous Plasma," he tells her in Vulcan. "I apologize I do not know the Standard terms," he adds in Standard. "Coronal discharge" he continues in Vulcan again. "Residue from the storm," he adds in Standard once again and she is impressed.

"St Elmo's Fire," she murmurs as she takes in what he said. Tarik gives her a curious look, the familiar Vulcan tilt of the chin and she forces herself not to smile. "That is common name for this in Standard," she explains, pleased with herself for knowing what it is in the first place because she's really not that hot on physics.

"Fascinating," Tarik says with a nod. Nyota wants to smile but that's not what Vulcans do so she dips her head like them instead. When Spock emerges onto the balcony, Tarik dips his head too. "Enjoy your day in our city," he says in Standard before he slips away and when she meets Spock's eyes he's smirking so hard he's practically smiling.

Nyota is prepared as they make their way out of the building, slipping on her sunglasses and giving Spock a playful nod as they stand side by side in the elevator. When the doors open she's surprised to not be greeted with the sight of the atrium as she expected but instead row upon row of flitters and hoverbikes. They aren't like Terran hoverbikes at all, which tend to be stumpy and round. These have long pointed noses and no windshield on the front. She glances up at Spock but he can't see her eyes through the black lenses that cover her face. He leads her through the shady basement and stops beside a hoverbike which she supposes must belong to Sorn and T'Ayin. He gives her a pointed look and Nyota opens her mouth to speak but before she can say anything Spock is climbing onto the seat and tapping at the console. The whole bike seems to come to life, moving up off the floor a few inches, pale green light appearing from under the chassis. Spock turns and gives her the brow which she returns before climbing on behind him. She wraps her arms around him and holds on tight as he grips the handlebars and the bike moves up a little further off the floor. Ahead of them there is a low rumbling sound and an opening appears in the wall, a long patch of light appearing across the stony floor as it slides open. If Nyota was concerned about the lack of windshield it's soon put out of her mind as static crackles around them and a localized forceshield flickers over the bike. Cool, she thinks and holds on tight.

As they move through the city, she sees the after effects of the storm on the city, sand piled up against the buildings like heavy snow after a blizzard. The palms on the trees that dot the landscape are mottled and scorched and everything is dusty but life goes on and the streets are bustling, albeit in that quiet Vulcan way. They make their way out of the city and into the desert and Nyota is excited because Gol is famous, like Troy and Babylon and Ashoka the Great all rolled into one but epic and alien. It's a space cadet's fantasy, Nyota learned about it at school just like every other Human that studied Vulcan and she's always wanted to see it. The hoverbike vibrates ever so slightly beneath her legs but other than that it doesn't make a sound. The air hums around the forceshield and there is the occasional hiss and crackle as a speck of sand blows against it. Nyota grows braver and cranes her neck to peer around the landscape and back at the shining towers of the city as they disappear into the distance. They curve around the rim of the sea, weaving in and out of the cliffs that loom up out of the sand until gradually they are on top of them. The view is amazing. The sea is stained a rusty red from the sandstorm in the night and in the distance she can see a bright sphere peeking up over the horizon but before she can really appreciate the vista, Spock brings the hoverbike to a halt. Nyota doesn't wait for Spock to disembark before she's padding forward on the barren rock face to peer into the crevasse below. She meets Spock's eyes with a look of astonishment and then he takes her hand, leading her through an arc in the rock and down a set of worn steps towards the dead city below.

The Great Gate of Gol is huge, towering high above as it spans a gap in the cliffs. Inside she sees buildings cut into the rock just like in Vulcana Regar but as they move further into the ruins the rocks open up to reveal the shore of the sea of Gol beyond the tumbling bricks, the modern city visible across the water. Of course Spock knows everything there is know about the city which is lucky because Vulcans don't do visitor centers like tourist attractions on Earth. Of course, Vulcan isn't widely known as a tourist hotspot but Nyota is starting to wonder why because she thinks it's amazing. She listens as he tells her how the people fled across the sea into the desert beyond as the armies of Shi-Kahr poured in through the Great Gate and laid siege to the Inner Fortress. He tells her how the soldiers crossed the Llangon mountains before marching right across the Plains of Gol with the largest army ever seen in that era. He tells her that the Golannsu were allegedly too busy drinking and dancing when that nirak Nirak just opened the gate and let them in but of course he qualifies that that is not historically accurate because the ensuing siege went on for months so it is likely that there was extensive defensive preparation. She cannot help herself and smiles at him fondly.

He tells her how after the sacking of Gol, the middle era city sprung up across the sea but that it was mostly destroyed by nuclear weapons during the Time of Awakening. There are a few buildings that remain, he tells her and perhaps they will see some of them later. She feels a chill down her spine as he relates to her how people fled back into the old city and took shelter in the ancient caves to die painful lingering deaths from radiation poisoning. He tells her how the sea was poisoned and the majority of the species that lived in it are now extinct. She feels both sad and hopeful as he explains how people wandered the desert for years until they finally came back and started to rebuild and how they promised everything would be different from then on and she knows that it really was.

They wander through the High Temple, the only part of the city left in tact but ten thousand years have taken their toll and it's like spectre, malevolent and hollow.

"It reminds me of Karnak," Nyota says as they wander through the tall columns that jut up into the sky.

"There is a resemblance, yes," Spock agrees. She imagines the massive siege engines that threw boiling oil and acid over the walls of the Inner Fortress and can almost hear the screams and smell the blood. These Vulcans were not like the ones she knows, not like the image that everyone sees – cold, placid and unfailingly logical. These Vulcans ate meat and drank intoxicating liquor and deliberately ingested venom in order to commune with the gods. They fought and feuded and murdered each other. As they go deeper there are faded murals painted on the walls that show men and women buck naked and whirling like dervishes in front of the altar. Nyota takes a moment to visualize towering lamps burning and the drums pounding as they carried out their rituals. There are scenes of caravans crossing the desert, Vulcans wrapped up in turbans and veils and riding beasts of burden, battle scenes of warriors brandishing lirpas over heaps of headless bodies. She doesn't tell him how Human those people look. She likes the banqueting scenes best of all because they show people dancing, drinking, smoking pipes and laughing. Spock tells her Gol is still renowned for its music. Nyota wants very much to hear it.

The second sun start to climb higher in the sky as noon approaches. It's too hot. Not hot like Vulcana Regar but still hotter than it ever gets even in Nairobi. Spock eyes her warily but she protests that she's fine, she doesn't want to leave until she's looked at absolutely everything. They compromise and move underground and he takes her deep into the catacombs beneath the city. They are horrifying. Walls of skulls and bones line the Shrine of Shariel, the god of death. He explains the rituals that took place here and Nyota is entranced but when Spock tells her about all the tortured katras that haunt the caves she shudders. Spock smirks and she narrows her eyes at him.

With the suns past their zenith they emerge and make their way back towards the bike but not before Spock shows her some grafitti scratched into the Southern gate.

Nyota struggles to keep her composure as she reads.

_Tomir is a filthy bastard. Do not drink wine in his house._

_Soomin you say that you love me and yet you will not lift up your skirt._

_In honor of your mother, Zofax defecated here._

She can't help it, she cackles loudly before clasping her palm across her mouth and giving Spock a wide eyed look.

"Sorry," she breathes in contrition. Spock is watching her mildly.

"Do not apologize," he tells her.

As they stand beside the bike Spock makes her eat and drink but before she's allowed the quasi-junky Vulcan protein bar he makes her eat one of those rancid mineral tablets. Nyota curls her lip at him a little before accepting grudgingly, chewing with a grimace and swaying as he jabs her with the hypo. This, she realizes, is why noone comes for a vacation to Vulcan.

It's quiet and they are alone and so they sit for a while, side by side in the shade of a rock. Spock shuffles closer and though he doesn't put his arm around her his shoulder and his thigh press close against hers. Nyota leans against him and he rests his cheek on the top of her head. She's staring out across the sea, staring wistfully at the gentle curve of the heavenly body that sits on the horizon. Vulcan has no moon but it has a twin. It's called many things, Valdena, T'Khut but in Gol they call it T'Rukh – The Watcher. It's the first time Nyota's seen it, T'Rukh is only visible for half of the Vulcan month and it hadn't appeared over Vulcana Regar.

"The Watcher will be higher by nightfall," Spock tells her, closing a compartment in the side of the bike and turning back to her. "It has not been visible until now because of the storm. As we cross the plateau it will dominate the sky and you will be able to better observe the eruptions on its surface." Nyota looks at him as he speaks. "As we near Shi-Kahr you should also be able to see the Eye as it orbits." T'Rukhemai, The Eye of The Watcher, a moon caught between two worlds. Nyota can't think of anything to say so she nods and turns back to the view before her.

She's tired, they've been up since stupid o'clock because Vulcans don't sleep as much as Humans and even though the sunlight is less intense now, she can still feel is baking down on her back through her clothes. Eventually Spock makes her get up and more or less bodily places her on the back of the bike. She wraps her arms around his waist and presses her cheek against his shoulder as they move and at that angle she can feel his heartbeat against her stomach.

The apartment is empty when they return. Spock tells her it will be some time before third meal and suggests rest and meditation. She eyes him sceptically but doesn't protest as he hustles her into the bedroom. She lets him help her undress and sees that familiar look in his eye but if she thinks she knows what's coming next she's mistaken because as soon as she hits the pillow she's out for the count. She's not aware of it but Spock lies beside her on the bed for a long while watching her as she sleeps.


	5. Chapter 5

Nyota emerges some time later to the discordant strains of the Vulcan lyre drifting in from the next room. Through the doorway she spies Tarik sitting on the couch apparently attempting to tune up and wearing that expression which she recognises as Vulcan irritation, although to those less well acquainted with their species it might appear merely a more extreme form of bored disinterest. The source of his irritation becomes apparent when a pair of arms occasionally glimpse around the door frame as Soraya dances around and around in mal-coordinated circles in front of her brother, her girlish voice imploring him to play. As she spins she catches sight of Nyota in the door and comes to an abrupt halt.

"Greetings," she says with a wobbly little bow. Tarik clutches the lyre in a death grip and drops his eyes to the carpet.

"Good evening," Nyota replies giving a little bow of her own. Soraya blinks at her, her expression as though she might smile if only she would. Nyota takes the will for the deed and attempts to project back her own non smile before moving on down the hall.

She finds Spock and Sorn in the kitchen discussing the Federation-Klingon border dispute in rapid Vulcan. T'Ayin is standing a way away, Somik perched on one hip sucking on a piece of vegetable while his mother slowly stirs a steaming pan. She is wearing an expression that Nyota can't quite read although when she meets Nyota's eyes she seems almost...amused. The men are chopping vegetables with great vigor, so much so that it seems almost aggressive. Sorn it seems wears the sarcastic Vulcan expression even better than Spock does as the pair debate the pros and cons of Starfleet rearmament however when Nyota enters the debate is put on hold.

At third meal they share conversation with their hosts about the day's visit to the Old City and Nyota discovers that Sorn is something of a history buff. However Spock also is a history buff and the conversation deteriorates into a moderately impassioned (as far as Vulcans might become so) debate about the re-emergence and subsequent decline of Gol in the late middle period. T'Ayin watches, her eyes glittering as Sorn declares it to be a result of Shi-Kahr militarism while Spock contends it is more a case of the stagnation of the Golian economy. Spock ultimately accuses Sorn of historical revisionism (something he claims is a well known failing of academic institutions in this province), an accusation Sorn  _almost_  scoffs at (Vulcans do not on the whole  _scoff_  at anything) and dismisses this as typical Shi-Kahr arrogance. It takes a while for it all to sink in and the men are already clearing the dishes away by the time Nyota realizes that what she is witnessing is tantamount to a Vulcan pissing contest.

T'Ayin does not comment but she seems perfectly content to let the rivalry continue after dinner when they move into the lounge to sip tea. Nyota wonders also if it might not have something to do with the contents of the small stasis box that Spock had presented to his cousin once Soraya and Somik were safely tucked away in their beds. Nyota has seen it in his luggage since they left Earth but hadn't given it more than a moments thought. The sheer sinful glee of their hosts is palpable when T'Ayin opens the box to reveal three bars of high end Terran chocolate stashed inside. Nyota drops her eyes and hides her smile behind her hand as Spock explains the exact origin and percentage of cocoa in each bar as his cousins listen enraptured.

Perhaps most endearing is young Tarik whose desperation to eat chocolate is so apparent as to be undignified although entirely forgiveable for a Vulcan of his age in what Nyota is fast becoming aware is considered intimate company in their society. The idea flatters her beyond imagination and she finds herself gazing wistfully at Spock's profile sitting beside her as Tarik plays a tune on his lyre – his reward being a single, solitary square of white chocolate (mild enough for his juvenile liver to digest in small amounts).

It is one of the most endearing moments that Nyota has experienced in her life and it will stay with her long after she has left Vulcan, the memory of Tarik's green blush as she breaks the chocolate and offers it to him. As he places the square into his mouth it seems that his shyness of her melts like the chocolate on his tongue and he breathlessly utters in adorably accented Standard that she is by far the most pleasing houseguest that he can recall.

He is soon dispatched to his bed and his lyre left in Spock's capable hands. He strums a quiet meditative tune while Sorn enquires as to her interest in Vulcan music. She suspects that Spock has already informed his cousins that she is indeed very much an admirer as Sorn tells her that there is to be a recital of earl and middle period music at the Gol Academy the following evening, should she be so inclined. Spock later tells her that Golannsu are notoriously obsessed with their early and middle period history and she does not reply that perhaps Shi-Kahr natives are the slightest bit envious of it as Sorn had more or less intimated to her that same evening when Spock had been out of the room.

"It is fortunate that I find myself unoccupied tomorrow," T'Ayin tells her, refilling her tea glass and Nyota meets her eye.

"Your company would be welcome," she says as she takes the tea and sips at it. Something seems to twinkle in her hostess' eye.

"Indeed," she replies, topping up her own glass. "I shall be able to accompany you into the city in order to procure appropriate attire." Nyota sips her tea to quash her amusement.

"That would be highly satisfactory," she manages without cracking a smile and T'Ayin dips her head slightly in reply.

The next day is hazy and moderately cooler, the scorching heat of the sun muted by a rare wisp of cloud high in the atmosphere – fine weather on Vulcan. Nyota awakes to find herself alone in the bed and when she emerges, finds Soraya instructing Tarik on the correct method of adjusting the straps of her school bag as he slides them over her arms. He is silent and doing an admirable job of projecting utter indifference at her patronising tone but Nyota can tell from the set of his brow that he finds it unbearably irritating.

"Good morning Nyota Uhura," Soraya chirps as she enters.

"Good morning Soraya," Nyota replies. "Tarik," she adds and the young boy drops his eyes to the floor before bowing slightly.

"Good morning," he mumbles before clasping his sister's hand and leading her towards the door. Nyota watches in amusement as they shuffle out of the door, certain that his ears had turned a darker shade of green than usual.

"Good morning," T'Ayin greets as Nyota enters the kitchen, the aroma of breakfast still lingering in the air.

"Good morning," she replies. "My apologies, I seem to have overslept," Nyota adds.

"Spock informed me it was his attention to allow you to do so," T'Ayin tells her, reaching for a carafe of khaasa juice and pouring a glass.

"Thankyou," Nyota murmurs as she accepts it.

"I advise sustenance," T'Ayin continues, turning and placing a plate of fig-like fruits on the counter in front of her. "Spock intends for us to tour the Gol Museum of Decorative Arts and Design this morning and we have also to find some suitable attire for this evening's recital." Nyota has never been more than vaguely acquainted with a Vulcan woman but she knows several non-Human women very well indeed and she is starting to believe that there are indeed some feminine practices which transcend species because T'Ayin seems almost gleeful at the prospect. Nyota wants to smile but instead she sips her juice and demurely replies in Vulcan: "I am amenable."

They are accompanied into the city by Sorn and little Somik who sits in a kind of papoose across his father's chest. Nyota and T'Ayin amble behind the menfolk as they make their way into the city a remnant of days gone by when males would scout ahead for danger. They head first to a tall building of red Vulcan stone with a gently pointed roof that stretches up high into the sky, typical post-Surak architecture Sorn tells her as they enter. Inside is a veritable treasure trove of Vulcan beauty and they spend the morning walking through climate controlled chambers filled with pottery and ceramics, with decorative swords in elaborate scabbards, of regal gowns with obscenely long trails encrusted with gems and equally ornate head dresses. Some of it is so old she can't quite get her head around it and it makes her feels small and humble. Sorn comments to her occasionally on similarities to various Human cultures he has studied or places that he visited while he was on Earth. Nyota is impressed by the depth of his knowledge and ease of his manner but Spock is not about to beaten by a decadent Golannsu and frequently guides her gently away towards some other equally fascinating exhibit to expound on its merits. Nyota wonders if all Vulcan men are this competitive and if this is the reason that Spock and his father's relationship is so strained.

As they walk through the museum Nyota feels both awed and sorrowful as she learns how much of their culture was lost during the Time of Awakening, whole cities wiped out and centuries of history buried beneath the sands until the new Vulcan emerged and it was uncovered once more. She carefully reads the annotations beneath each exhibit, silently marvelling at the majesty of a culture and the tenacity of a people amid such a harsh, unrelenting climate. And it is unrelenting. Even in the temperature controlled chambers she is too warm, her whole body feels as though it's made of lead but in spite of this she no longer wonders how a human might come to call this planet home or to call these people kin. She looks at Spock and then at Somik in his father's arms but then she shakes her head to push away the thoughts that spring to mind, focusing instead on the exhibits before her and refusing to acknowledge what she is feeling.

Although she is enraptured looking at the objects on display but she has not failed to notice that Somik has spent most of the morning staring at her. Nyota mostly pretends not to notice, something she is becoming more adept at as she spend more time on Vulcan hyper-conscious as she is of her stumpy Human ears and the sunglasses Spock insists she wears. She's different, she accepts that she's bound to attract curious stares from time to time although she is certainly not the only alien in Gol. Eventually though she meets the baby's eyes and he holds her gaze, an expression of vague mistrust on his face like he can't quite figure out what exactly it is that makes her unlike everyone else. Nyota raises one brow at him and his eyes go wide for a second before he decides that he's spent enough time in her company to finally give her the finger – something that has quite different connotations on Vulcan than on Earth. His mother murmurs gentle words of encouragement to him and slowly, cautiously Nyota lets him clasp her hand. She lets out a little shock of breath as she feels the odd probing buzz of his consciousness, so unlike Spock's gentle touch in her mind. Somik is of course, very very young and his brain has another thirty years of development before it bears any resemblance to Spock's. She considers also that Spock's brain is singular on account of his unique parentage and Somik seems to be considering it too because when he breaks the connection he turns and fixes Spock with a puzzled stare. Nyota doesn't know if it's because the child senses the same Humanity in Spock or if it is because he senses Spock in Nyota's mind. When she finds T'Ayin giving her a misty eyed look she suspects the latter and turns away feeling suddenly very exposed. Sex is one thing, the joining of minds is quite another but from that point on Sorn and T'Ayin address her using diminutive verb forms as they would a younger sibling and their quiet acceptance touches her more deeply than she can express.

Vulcan's twin suns are high in the sky when they finally stop for tea. Nyota happily accepts a glass, the sweet red liquid washing away the foul taste of the mineral supplement that Spock discreetly slips her way.

"Spock informs me that you will be visiting his parents in Shi-Kahr," T'Ayin says passively as they sit. Spock slurps on his tea and watches her through narrowed eyes but says nothing.

"That is correct," Nyota replies.

"Due to the nature of his work, Sarek often hosts formal dinners at his home," T'Ayin continues causally and Nyota pauses for a moment, a tiny flame of anxiety flickering in her stomach as she considers this. "I anticipate you will have need of more than one robe," T'Ayin says and Nyota does not miss the quirk of Spock's brow.

"I am content to be guided by you," Nyota answers and T'Ayin tilts her head to one side.

"If you are amenable, I will introduce you to an acquaintance of mine who specializes in this field," she says, refilling her tea glass. "And if you would prefer, I am certain we can acquire a more discreet form of eye protection," T'Ayin informs her, raising a brow and glancing at the sunglasses that sit on the table in front of Nyota.

"Really?" Nyota enquires, glancing at T'Ayin with interest.

"Spock's mother employs lenses applied directly to the eye, as do many non Vulcans," T'Ayin replies and Nyota scowls.

"There proved to be a limited selection of protective eye-wear available on Earth," Spock interjects with a hint of defensiveness. Nyota sucks her lower lip into her mouth and says nothing.

"Your consideration was most admirable cousin," T'Ayin says smoothly. "It is my experience that male judgement in these matters differs greatly from our own," T'Ayin tells her later when they are alone, the males having been banished from their company as they set out into the city in search of  _suitable attire_  as T'Ayin calls it.

"Indeed," Nyota replies dryly, admitting to herself that by now she loves Spock's cousin as though she were her own.

They amble along an arcade lined with what Nyota supposes you might call boutiques although this is Vulcan and it isn't quite like shopping on Earth. It is busy though, busier even than Vulcana Regar Nyota thinks recalling the crowded cars of the subterranean transit. Nyota isn't quite sure why that surprises her exactly, after all Vulcan has something like six billion inhabitants and Gol is by far the largest city. Nyota is happy enough just to walk the streets and take in through the eyes things that no book on Vulcan culture can teach. They cross a broad piazza with some kind of interactive sculpture at the centre. There are several Vulcan children waving their hands at it, holographic glyphs bouncing around on the crystal beneath. Nyota watches them as they cross the square, realizing as they pass that the children are in fact arranging mathematical equations in the correct sequence which in turn makes the sculpture light up in different and highly aesthetically pleasing combinations. She spies a young Vulcan man sporting a headset that seems to be displaying an opaque viewscreen in front of his eyes. He speaks in rapid Golic dialect (essentially Vulcan slang) as he steps sure-footed along the path even as his attention is occupied by the speckled image being projected in front of his face. Vulcan technology is cool, Nyota thinks and making a mental note to pick up one of those headsets before they return to Earth.

Eventually they come to a building in a small lane that leads off one of the busier avenues. T'Ayin leads her through a door and into what Nyota supposes must be the equivalent of a clothing store on Earth. Inside however there are no racks of clothes but several couches and a table with a small but beautiful arrangement of flowers in the center, beautiful abstract representations of Vulcan flora adorning the walls. After a moment a woman appears.

"T'Ayin," she intones with a modest bow. "It is agreeable to see you again."

"T'Resh," T'Ayin simply replies. "May I present Nyota Uhura of Earth."

"Honored," T'Resh replies with another bow. Nyota returns the greeting and she when rises she finds T'Resh giving her body an appraising stare before meeting her eyes once more.

"How may I be of assistance this day?" she asks. T'Ayin gives Nyota a look that is verging on sly.

"My companion is the guest of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth," T'Ayin explains and Nyota's eyes widen a little in surprise at her companion's misrepresentation of the truth. T'Resh turns to look at her once more, her brow sliding up her forehead in a manner that Nyota recognises instantly.

"I see," she says simply before stepping towards the door behind her. "If you will come with me, I am certain that we shall be able to accommodate you."

The room beyond is decorated in a spartan yet undeniably feminine way and like everything on this planet it feels old, as though the very bricks thrum with the energy of everyone who has ever set foot inside. The walls are lined with mirrors and while T'Resh scans her measurements, Nyota observes that they are the flattering kind. She approves wholeheartedly, thinking momentarily of Terran clothes stores and how the mirrors seem to highlight every single flaw.

When T'Resh has finished scanning her, she summons some minions who come in carrying clothes and various accoutrements that go with them. T'Resh informs them casually that their client is the guest of a high ranking statesman in Shi-Kahr and although T'Resh herself seems outwardly unmoved, Nyota notices one of her assistant's brow twitch and they all seem suddenly more invested in finding the perfect attire. It seems that same Golannsu flaw Spock had highlighted in Sorn is something of a regional characteristic and Nyota wonders if they consider it a matter of honor that this Human meet Shi-Kahr society in the finest fashions that Gol has to offer. If that is the case Nyota really can't say that she minds very much because some of these clothes are beautiful.

With a considerable amount of help, Nyota selects a number of daytime outfits in the contemporary style which cover her head and body completely – not so much for modesty as for protection against the fierce sun. She is even sure that she can pull off one or two pieces back in San Francisco, during the Summer at least. The evening robes are far more revealing and T'Ayin's restraint is palpable as she explains to their hostess that while they are all quite pleasing they are little too... _a la mode_ for Shi-Kahr. Nyota understands exactly what she means by this when she sees the sheer fabrics and low cuts.

For tonight however, there is no need to hold back since she has been assured that Gol has a completely different aesthetic to Shi-Kahr (the climate, they explain logically). Everyone seems particularly insistent that Nyota try on a green robe embroidered with silver coloured thread, one of T'Resh's personal designs. As they hold it up Nyota is sceptical on account of the wide V shaped slit down the back. T'Resh, misunderstanding and thinking this some strange Human taboo smoothly explains that Nyota need not be concerned since that part of the robe is in fact intended to be worn down the front of the body. Nyota stares at the dress in wide mouthed surprise but finds herself ushered into the dressing room before she can protest. She stares at her exposed cleavage for a long while in the mirror before she sums up the courage to step back outside.

"Highly acceptable," T'Resh practically croons as she enters and Nyota blushes under their dark eyed stares.

"A most flattering color," one of her assistants adds. T'Ayin nods in agreement and steps closer.

"If I may?" she asks politely, raising her hands and gesturing to Nyota's hair that hangs loosely around her shoulders. Nyota nods and T'Ayin steps closer. "You should wear your hair up on your head in the Vulcan style," she suggests gently gathering the strands together and holding them high on the back of Nyota's head. In the mirror Nyota sees the nodding of heads and hears the muttering voices.

"Oh yes."

"Quite lovely."

"Such an attractive species."

Nyota blushes and dips her head, reaching up gently to let her hair free of T'Ayin's grip.

"I think I would prefer to wear it down," she tells T'Ayin quietly. T'Ayin tips her head to one side quizzically.

"You are uncomfortable," she comments gently. "I apologize."

"No, no," Nyota assures her.

"Wearing your hair in this manner will enhance the attractiveness of your neck and shoulders," T'Resh explains as though attempting to convey the suggestion in more Human terms. Nyota's lashes flutter.

"I think...I think I'd rather keep it down," she replies, unconsciously smoothing a few strands over her ear. T'Ayin's brow creeps up.

"You wish to cover your ears?" she says and Nyota notices the Vulcan reflections in the mirror exchanging glances. Nyota swallows and takes a breath.

"I would rather not draw attention to myself," she explains quietly.

"I am certain you attract attention wherever you go," T'Resh states bluntly, to the point as Nyota has come to expect of Vulcans. Her eyes dart from side to side and she isn't quite sure how to reply. T'Ayin pauses for a moment and glances at T'Resh.

"You believe people will stare at your ears?" T'Ayin says in a gentle coaxing tone. Nyota opens her mouth and closes it again, stretching her fingers in and out for a second as she considers how best to reply. "I assure you, Nyota, they are quite charming." Nyota's mouth drops open in surprise before she quickly closes it again.

"That's very kind of you to say," she replies when she composes herself and T'Ayin gives her the brow.

"It is not kindness, simply fact," she says. Nyota feels very foolish and somehow more Human in this moment than she has since they arrived.

"I...ah..." Nyota stammers but before she can continue T'Resh moves closer.

"Your Humanity makes you self conscious?" she queries and Nyota meets her eyes for a second in the mirror. "It is not logical to dwell on something that is an unchangeable facet of your person." As she speaks T'Resh's eyes flick up and down Nyota's long, slim form clad in the beautiful green gown they are clearly so fond of. Nyota licks her lips and remains placid.

"It is illogical perhaps..." She feels so odd saying those words. She has lived around aliens her whole life but it's different on Earth. She's Human, she's always in the majority and she feels a strange mish mash of emotions as she realizes what a privilege that gives her. Her thoughts turn to Spock and how it must be for him on Earth, never blending in like he does here. She hesitates and feels an odd feeling of empathy for him when she thinks on his Humanity, hidden from the eye but lingering just beneath the surface all the same. Does he feel like this on Vulcan too? Does he ever feel like he belongs or has he spent his whole life feeling at odds with the universe like she feels at odds now in this place with these Vulcans all staring at her like a rare exhibit in a museum?

T'Ayin and T'Resh exchange a look and after a moment T'Ayin steps a little closer.

"I apologize if you are uncomfortable," she says softly. "However you must accept that people here will look at you." Nyota holds her gaze and lets her words sink in as T'Ayin continues. "Not simply because you are human but because you are also very beautiful." Nyota's lashes flutter and she sways a little, flushing at the compliment. T'Ayin's expression changes. "Are you unwell?" she asks concerned.

"I beg your pardon," Nyota manages to croak. "I am unaccustomed to the warm Vulcan climate."

 


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they return home she needs no encouragement to rest and when she enters the bedroom she collapses face first onto the mattress.

"Perhaps we should avoid the recital this evening," Spock suggests later as she sits up sluggishly on the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine," she assures him with a sweet, lazy smile not mentioning that she doesn't want to disappoint T'Ayin after all her efforts. Spock does not reply but instead he places a finger at her jaw and raises her chin to cast his eye over her face. She is compliant as he takes her hands and turns them over in his own, rubbing a thumb across her palms for a moment before taking a pulse at her wrist.

"You are anxious," he notes and she shrugs.

"A little tense maybe," she offers and he nods. She  _is_ tired and cannot deny that she is still nervous about appearing in public in that dress, the memory of those Vulcan eyes on her in the mirror still fresh in her mind. What is more T'Ayin has informed her that the family of Tarik's intended, a girl named T'Val will be present at the recital and Nyota doesn't want to do anything that might sour relations between the families. She doesn't mention any of this to Spock.

He takes her through a guided meditation before leaving her to T'Ayin's capable hands as they dress. She is grateful both for his guidance and for his cousin's help, Soraya watching on with a wistful expression as they perform the feminine rituals of dressing and fixing their hair. T'Ayin brushes oil through her hair, a scent spicy like sandalwood filling her nostrils as T'Ayin delicately piles it up on the back of her head. The muted strains of the lyre waft in from where the men are waiting in the next room and her lashes flutter as she takes in her appearance in the mirror, light from the sinking suns reflecting in the glass and blinding her for a moment. When she opens her eyes, bright orbs dance across her field of vision and her head spins.

When Spock's gaze falls on her as emerge from the bedroom he seems... unusual, his expression more Vulcan than she has ever seen it – whatever that means. She considers that maybe she is thinking too much, wondering if he disapproves of her attire, of the amount of skin on display and her round ears visible now that her hair is pinned up. He is likewise garbed in the Golannsu style and wears a thin robe that fits snugly across his chest, fastened by a rows of ornately stitched buttons. It reminds Nyota vaguely of a kimono or a kaftan, in particular one she recalls her great grandfather wearing often and she wonders if he would approve of Spock. She recalls he wasn't massively fond of Vulcans although in fairness he was very old and notoriously cantankerous and didn't really seem very fond of anyone, especially not boys that showed interest in his granddaughters. Spock however appears decidedly less African and definitively more Vulcan that evening and she know she wouldn't want him any other way regardless of what anyone thinks.

He steps towards her and offers her his arm as they depart. "Ashal'veh," he murmurs and Nyota stops worrying about what he thinks but in that moment he makes her feel more beautiful than she can ever recall feeling in her life.

They travel by flitter a short distance across the city and emerge on an avenue lined with storm scorched palms that sway imperceptibly in the breeze. Nyota thinks that perhaps it is not right to call it a breeze - that word is too mild, too mellow to describe the gusting heat that brushes her bare neck. She supposes it is not so strange to wear such a flimsy gown and wonders how she could have thought that Vulcans would have worn those same thick woven robes on their homeworld as they do on Earth or in the cold of space.

The Academy is situated on the shore of the Golian Sea, elegant Vulcan architecture nestled amid the rugged cliffs. As they move further into the grounds, modern academic buildings give way to crumbling middle period architecture that has been painstakingly preserved. The crumbled walls around them are lined with chipped murals of strange scenes that Sorn explains are representations of a pre-Awakening creation myth. Nyota nods, listening attentively as he names the various beast-like deities depicted in once gaudy caricatures along the walls. Beside them walks a very smart looking Tarik, his black hair glossy and perfectly smooth and Nyota represses a smile as she imagines him in front of the mirror with a comb and a tub of wax. His wide eyed gaze belies his troubled interior as they spy his intended waiting with her parents beside an ancient and ornate water fountain that gurgles quietly in the courtyard.

Sorn presents her to one Supok and one T'Nim of Gol, introducing her as Nyota Uhura of Earth. She is met by their polite bows and typically cool Vulcan greetings but if she feels anxious under their appraisal she does not let it worry her, more concerned as she is for young Tarik who stands like a stone in front of a doe eyed Vulcan girl. Nyota observes the bob in his throat as T'Val greets him with a stiff bow but she soon realizes by the breathlessness of his reply is more the result of excitement than anxiety and from that point on the pair are inseparable. It transpires that T'Val's grandfather, also unhelpfully named Supok, is a Master of Arts at the Gol Academy and Nyota gives Spock a playful quirk of the brow as they are led towards some very well situated seats inside the auditorium. It seems that even on Vulcan it pays to have connections.

Daylight is giving way to night and the Watcher looms above them, the bright reds and oranges of its surface dominating the sky as they pass through the ancient archways to an amphitheatre built into the cliffs. The stage sits nestled between the rows of stone seats and the water's edge, the last of the setting suns shimmering on the horizon until it eventually vanishes from sight. Nyota breathes in the strange salty air that blows in across the sea and admires the stunning tableau of the majestic T'Rukh set among the stars.

As they make their way to through the gathered bodies, there is no denying the curiously appreciative glances that come her way and Nyota smoothes her palms across her skirt, conscious of the expanse of leg revealed by her gown even if other women are dressed in a similar fashion. Spock seems to notice her discomfort and moves imperceptibly closer. She does not smile, blinking instead like he does at her and gently lays her palm across the back of his hand when he offers his arm. It is not the most comfortable pose but it certainly looks elegant and dignified and if Spock notices how heavily she leans the weight of her arm over his he does not mention it.

For their edification, the guests are treated to an exposition of Golian music, students from the academy assembling on the stage to play them a selection of music spanning the entirety of the Middle Period, something like four to two thousand years before the present day. The earlier pieces are quite discordant and their host, the wizened Supok the Elder explains to the audience in a croaking voice the Vulcan scale has at this point yet to evolve to the more familiar diatonic scale of later epochs. There is an array of instruments, some of which Nyota already knows, the Lyre and the T'Bir (a long necked string instrument somewhat like a cross between a banjo and a sitar) and several others she is unfamiliar with. The Ut puts her in mind of a medieval mandolin, a kind of fat bodied guitar with a crooked neck. The Rehkh is kind of very long pipe with a seemingly endless number of holes played by a young man with a very broad chest and round green flushed cheeks that puff out like hamster as he plays, his fingers flying up and down the narrow body with a speed that dazzles her. There are also a variety of percussion instruments reminiscent of tambours and bongos and one depressed looking youth holds a long stick with an arrangement of bells hanging from a horseshoe that he dutifully shakes continually during the performance. She thinks perhaps her favorite is a kind of hammered dulcimer that makes such a haunting sound that she will be hearing it when she closes her eyes for several nights after they leave.

The music is both what she expected and completely beyond what she had imagined. Some pieces are meditative and tranquil as one might imagine Vulcan music to be but many are quite the opposite. This is middle period Vulcan music, centuries before the Time of Awakening and many of the pieces are rapid paced, almost manic but with the same kind of haunting melancholy that reminds Nyota of the music of desert regions on Earth. She shifts and absently brushes a grain of sand from her cheek, thinking that if she was on Earth she'd most definitely get up and dance like she knows Vulcans did in days gone by. She thinks back to the engravings in the museum and on the walls in the old city and her mind wanders, the scent of the oil from the flickering torches that dot the arena filling her nostrils and transporting her to another time and place. The music goes on and in her mind's eye she imagines herself back in the High Temple, the ancient marble hot and dusty beneath her bare feet. Spock is there, that dark stare of his fixed on her and the light of dozen flaming torches glittering across the black orbs of his eyes. Nyota twitches a little and shifts a little against the warm stone beneath, turning her face to where he's seated beside her and letting her eyes wander over the shape of his muscles under his clothes. She's not entirely sure what's wrong with her but if Spock has been excessively amorous since they've been here she has to admit that she's starting to feel the same way. She doesn't know why she is surprised, after all T'Ayin and Sorn are relatively young by Vulcan standards and already have three children. And Tarik and T'Val, still only children, sit so close their shoulders are pressed together even as their hands sit demurely in their laps. She blames the dusty heat and the thick Vulcan wine Sorn had insisted she try at dinner for making her head spin but doesn't miss the side ways gaze Spock makes in her direction and wonders if he knows what she's thinking.

When the recital comes to its inevitable conclusion, Nyota must repress the urge to stand and clap enthusiastically. The Vulcan audience is however not entirely passive, standing as the musicians depart the stage and the auditorium filling immediately with the sound of several hundred voices murmuring animatedly. Afterwards tea and Vulcan wine are served, the musicians mingling with the audience as one or two of them play quietly at one end of the courtyard. Here Nyota is introduced to Supok the Elder who is gratified, he tells her serenely, at the opportunity to practice his Standard. He enquires as to her opinion of the music and upon expressing her esteem of the dulcimer player in particular, spirits her away before Spock can protest. He introduces her to one Torin, a Golannsu who appears to be a similar age to Spock. Nyota cannot also help but notice that his appearance is not dissimilarly aesthetically pleasing.

"Our guest has expressed her satisfaction with your performance Torin," Supok the Elder tells him paternalistically and Torin bows low in gratitude. When he straightens Nyota is aware of his appraising gaze, his eyes sliding not entirely discreetly over her body as he rises. She dips her head slightly and attempts to project indifference but when he meets her eye he gives her a look that seems to convey  _his_  satisfaction with her appearance.

"I am honored," he tells her, looking her right in the eye as he speaks and Nyota clasps her wineglass delicately in her hands, finding herself flattered rather than discomfited by his attention. She is aware of Supok hovering at her side and considers her reply.

"Your performance was highly acceptable," she tells him politely in Vulcan and he tilts his head to one side and hesitates.

"I am pleased to hear that," he tell her switching suddenly to flawless Standard a moment later and Nyota's brow quirks in surprise. Supok observes with interest and Nyota is not certain how to respond.

"Torin has expressed his is intention to lead the group on a tour of Earth," the old man croaks, his voice withered by age and his Standard uncertain. Nyota turns to him as she speaks.

"I very much hope that you will," she tells him. "It is a shame that Golic culture is not more widely known."

"You believe we would be well received?" Torin asks as enthusiastically as a Vulcan can. Nyota nods, meeting his eyes and suppressing the urge to smile in encouragement.

"Yes I think so," she replies. "Although traditionally Human audiences are more...expressive of their appreciation."

"Aah, the Human custom of... _clapping_ ," Supok muses thoughtfully. "Fascinating."

"Did you find yourself inclined to...  _clap_?" Torin asks politely and Nyota nods.

"I must confess that I did," she admits and Torin's eyes sparkle.

"I hope when we perform for Terran audiences that they will not be so restrained as yourself," he continues and Nyota warms up to him a little more.

"I think you will find the audiences on Earth noticeably more expressive of their appreciation," she tells him and he nods with interest.

"Terran music is quite esteemed on Vulcan," he tells her and her brow quirks a little. "I have also been led to believe that Humans are keen dancers." Nyota fixes him with a look, feeling very strange that he should mention the very thing she herself had been thinking.

"That is not inaccurate," she answers slowly and Torin's eyes smile.

"Do you think they would find our Golic rhythms...what is the word I am looking for?" He pauses and projects an air of innocence. "Stimulating?" he offers and Nyota's lip twitches as she represses the urge to cackle.

"I do," she tells him truthfully.

"And what about you Miss..." Torin pauses. Nyota licks her lips, feeling a twinge of malicious delight as Torin's eyes track the movement of her tongue.

"Uhura," she supplies and he dips his head a little.

"Miss Uhura," Torin finishes. She takes a slow breath through her nose. Who knew Vulcans could be so smooth?

"I found them... quite provocative," she tells him wearing her best poker face. She cannot tell if Supok is oblivious or merely indifferent to the subtext but the old man makes no indication that he is aware of it. Then again, he is  _very_ old. Torin's eyes seem to glitter in the torchlight.

"I am gratified that we have been able to...arouse your interest," Torin replies and Nyota sips her wine to prevent herself from laughing. She glances over the rim of her glass at Spock, apparently listening intently to T'Ayin but in actuality observing their exchange with suspicion. Nyota has always admired him in green.

"Hearing your overture this evening has certainly inflamed a desire to hear more," she retorts and Torin's nostrils flare. Nyota isn't sure what's wrong with her and clutches her empty glass tightly in her hand.

"Your gratification this evening is the most unequivocal inducement to visit Earth I have yet heard," Torin tells her. Nyota cannot help herself and she grins. "Is that not so Osu Supok?" he adds politely, addressing the old man as Spock appears beside Nyota who quickly schools her features into a more neutral expression.

"Indeed, indeed," the old man mutters but then Spock butts in and changes the subject before finding the most meagre of excuses with which to steal Nyota away.

"May I enquire as to the topic of your conversation?" Spock enquires as they loiter beside the fountain a little while later. Nyota raises one brow at him.

"We were discussing whether Golian music would be well received on Earth," she tells him honestly and when she glances at Spock he is watching her with dark eyes.

"And what is your opinion on the matter?" Spock enquires, his eyes narrowing as Nyota graciously accepts another glass of wine from a young Vulcan student that has been enlisted to wait on the guests and sips it with a mischievous expression as she recalls his caution about the effects of Vulcan wine on Human physiology earlier that evening.

"I think a Human audience would be highly receptive," she answers in her best Vulcan voice and Spock lets his eyes rove over the exposed skin of her neck, his lips twitching with what Nyota suspects is the repressed urge to bite her there. The very thought makes her tingle. Perhaps she  _has_ had a little too much wine she muses. "May I enquire?" Nyota asks sweetly a moment later. "As to the nature of  _your_ conversation?"

"My conversation?" Spock asks blandly and Nyota projects an air of innocence.

"With your cousin," she says, glancing at him sideways before turning her attention to the musicians in the corner as they are joined by a young Vulcan woman in a very beautiful gown. Spock tucks his hands behind his back and straightens up as he likewise observes her entrance.

"T'Ayin was merely enquiring as to my opinion on your attire this evening," he states as though he couldn't care less.

"Oh yes," she queries hopefully. Spock inhales through his nose and glances to one side.

"I told her I found it to be... _adequate,"_ he adds as though he is unbearably bored.

"Adequate," Nyota parrots, narrowing her eyes and giving him a sceptical look. Spock quirks a brow of indifference and pretends not to notice.

"Adequate," he repeats and she touches her tongue to the corner of her mouth for a minute as she considers her reply.

"Well," she says eventually. "You are entitled to your opinion I suppose."

"Quite," Spock says and Nyota schools her face into a pleasantly docile expression.

"Of course not everybody shares your opinion," she continues. "I have been reasonably informed that many Vulcans appreciate beauty even if you do not."

"You have a very high opinion of yourself," Spock quips, looking down his nose at her. Nyota pulls an innocent face.

"I was referring to my attire actually Mr Spock," she tells him coolly. "It seems however that you were alluding to something else?" Spock narrows his eyes but before he can speak, the murmuring voices around the courtyard fall silent as the young Vulcan woman does something that Nyota had never imagined she would ever get to witness.

She  _sings._


	7. Chapter 7

Later Nyota thinks back to the girl, to the garbled middle Golic dialect in which she has sung and tries to piece together the meaning of her words.  _Have you locked your heart with seven locks, can it really not be opened again?_ She asks Spock about the meaning of those lyrics but he never really answers, Nyota realizes only much, much later when that evening in Gol is nothing more than a memory. For now however she finds herself much too easily distracted by the shape of his lips and the low murmur of his voice as he speaks, the thin Vulcan air and the thick Vulcan wine making her dizzy.

When they eventually leave the recital Spock declines the flitter and much to her delight suggests they walk home. Spock leads her along the seashore and as much as she has come to care for his cousins she is grateful to have him to herself for a while. There is no denying that it is a beautiful night, the reflection of the Watcher shimmering on the gentle swell of the sea. They do not hurry and when her fingers brush against the back of his Spock gently links them together, their hands obscured by the folds of his robe. Along the way they see odd pairs of young Vulcan men practising Suus Maahna barefooted and bare-chested on the sand and pretending not to notice them staring, Nyota asks Spock if he has ever done the same.

"I have," he replies and her lips twitch.

"With Sorn?" Spock's lashes flutter and he stares straight ahead, his voice neutral.

"On occasion," he tells her and Nyota bites her lip.

"And uh...who won?" Spock glances down at her very briefly before looking ahead once more.

"It is difficult to say with accuracy," he states blandly and she stifles a snort.

"Please," Nyota scoffs and Spock raises one brow at her but says nothing. They are silent for a minute until she clears her throat and speaks again. "Well I suppose it's reassuring to know that you're not invincible." Spock glares at her.

"I am not certain I see how you find that fact reassuring, Nyota," he fairly grumbles and she chuckles quietly.

"Well, I don't want you to be too perfect," she explains. "You make me look bad." Spock's brow goes up again.

"I cannot recall an instance yet when you have looked... _bad,"_  he comments and she shakes her head, smiling.

"We're going hiking through the desert tomorrow, you might change your mind," she retorts.

"I do not believe that I will," he tells her earnestly, looking her in the eye with a playful expression.

Nyota can't help herself, she grins broadly and without thinking reaches up to peck him on the lips. Spock closes his eyes and sways a little and she smiles broadly as she observes his reaction but when he opens his eyes his face morphs into a scowl. Nyota's brow furrows and she turns to see what he's looking at only to see two young Vulcan men watching them, muttering between themselves. She feels their eyes on her and although she can't hear what they are saying, Spock's jaw clenches – she is so enamoured of the shape of his ears that she often forgets what they are for. His eyes take on a feral aspect and he seems to grow an inch or two in height, a posture she has not seen on him often but that makes her heart thud sickeningly in her chest. She is equal parts ashamed and flattered, knowing as she does what Vulcans say about Humans and having glimpsed Spock's temper on rare occasions but the last thing she wants is a scene, not here, not when she wants so very badly for his people to accept her.

"I thought we were going looking for sand dwellers," she says diplomatically in Standard, looping her arm into his and urging him onwards. Spock's nostrils flare and he chuffs out a hard breath through his nose as she tugs on his elbow, falling into step grudgingly and it feels like she's dragging a lead weight for a few minutes until his ire seems to subside.

They walk on in silence, passing the odd figure sat on the beach in silent contemplation or occasionally a Vulcan couple out for a late stroll by the water. Nyota looks out across the sea and chews on her lip.

"Tarik's girlfriend is pretty," she offers in a lame attempt to drag him out of his sullen mood.

"Fiancee," Spock corrects and Nyota glances to the side, rolling her eyes ever so slightly even as she is surprised by his words.

"They're very young to be engaged," she says and Spock hums vaguely in reply as they drift off the path and into the dunes. She wants to take her shoes off but Spock cautions her against it and when she sees a spiky looking critter scuttle through the half light she does not question him further. "Is that common?" she continues after a while.

"Sand dwellers are not rare, no," Spock replies and she cracks a half smile.

"I meant the children," she tells him and Spock takes a shallow breath.

"It is," is all he says and Nyota considers this for a moment.

"I know that used to happen a lot on Earth but personally I wouldn't want my parents deciding something like that for me," she comments, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear and Spock absently squeezes her fingers.

"That is a common Human misconception," Spock tells her mildly.

"Oh?" Nyota chirps, peering up at him to see him glancing out across the water.

"Vulcan children mature differently to Humans," he explains.

"You mean...like puberty?" she says with a half grin and Spock looks at her, quirking a brow.

"After a fashion," he answers and she chews her lip. Spock takes a breath and considers his words. "Vulcan's have a natural inclination to... _bond..._ with another," he explains and Nyota blinks, looking him in the eye as he speaks.

"You mean, like it is...for us," she says quietly. His chest rises and falls as he takes a long slow breath in and out.

"Perhaps I should have spoken of this before," he tells her, raising his hand and stroking his fingers slowly across her temple, through her hair and following the round shell of her ear.

"Spock..." she utters, taking a breath but before she can say anything more he speaks again.

"You look very beautiful tonight," he says softly, tracing the outline of her lips with his fingertips but then something seems to catch inside him and he hesitates. "Perhaps I should tell you such things more frequently," he murmurs ponderously and she swallows, uncertain how to voice her thoughts.

"You don't have to tell me," she assures him and he looks at her intently.

"Do I not?" he says, his voice barely a whisper. Nyota holds his gaze and they stand in silence for a minute until eventually she speaks.

"Sometimes I can... still feel you," she manages to croak, swaying ever so slightly and her eyes falling closed. "After."

"Yes," he breathes, taking her hands and rubbing the pads of his thumbs over her knuckles.

"Spock...," is all that Nyota manages but then he leans a little closer and there in the dunes, hidden from everyone but the watchful gaze of T'Rukh he kisses her.

From the way he holds her, Nyota gets the feeling that he would have taken her right there on the sand but just as she's losing herself in his embrace he pulls back, clutching her shoulders in a tight grip and staring out across the sea with an alert expression.

"Spock?" she queries and his brow furrows a little. He clutches her hand tightly and is dragging her back towards the path when a sudden loud rumbling vibrates through the ground beneath their feet. Nyota gasps and slips a little as sand from the dunes beneath their feet slides downwards towards the shore. Spock wraps his arms around her shoulders and half carries her over the brow, rubble clattering down the face of a nearby cliff and onto the road ahead.

"Seismic activity," he says in his scientific monotone, coming to a halt and glancing up at the sky and Nyota marvels at his ability to go from lustful to logical in the blink of an eye. "It will grow stronger as the Watcher passes over." Nyota swallows and catches her breath, looking down the beach to see the tide break heavily across the sand where they had been standing moments before, sliding back down with and dragging half the beach with it. Spock is beside her, head tilted towards the sky and she turns to look in the same direction. In the distance, she can just make out a slight curve appearing over the horizon, dark against the orange glow of the Watcher behind.

"T'Rukhemai," Spock intones, peering down at her and noting her wide eyed gaze.

"Fascinating," she utters breathlessly.

He talks animatedly all the way home and Nyota  _is_ interested in satellites and tidal bulge, really she is but she's hot and flustered and breathless and not just from the the thin Vulcan air. She's always been impressed by Spock's knowledge of astronomy and physics but this time she's finding it a little hard to focus because she's rather less interested in discussing the unique orbital locking of Vulcan's heavenly bodies so much as locking bodies with her own unique, heavenly Vulcan.

"You are not listening," Spock tells her, holding her in his arms as the elevator propels them smoothly and rapidly upwards towards his cousins' apartment.

"I am," she assures him absently, leaning her chin against his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist as she stares at his lips. Spock quirks a brow at her sceptically and her ears don't even have time to pop before he is leading her down the corridor towards the door.

The living space is empty when they step inside and Nyota sinks down onto the low seat inside the door to remove her shoes, grateful for the chance to rest after the long walk home. She fumbles a little with her footwear and Spock stoops down to help her, pausing to rub his hand along the arch of her foot, his thumbs stroking briefly across the tops of her feet before he places them down gently on the carpet. She smiles at him, her eyes crinkling at the corners as he rises silently to his feet and peers down at her. He looks at her for a moment, cupping her jaw in one palm and brushing gentle fingers over her cheekbone. She feels the faint pull of his mind on hers and she is compliant as he pulls her to her feet and leads her towards the bedroom.

Inside she stands by the window and looks out at the cityscape for a moment, Spock approaching her from behind as the door closes with a faint hush. She dips her head to one side and closes her eyes as he runs his hands across her shoulders and down her arms, his lips pressing gently against the pulse in her neck as he wraps his arms around her waist. He holds her like that for a minute and she blinks, glimpsing T'Rukh peeking between the buildings.

"I'm sad to be leaving tomorrow," she tells him in a whispering voice.

"Do not _...be sad,"_  he murmurs in her ear before he kisses it softly.

"I can't help it," she admits as he turns her in his arms and but then he presses his lips to hers and she forgets about feeling sad as another more pleasing sensation takes hold of her.

She lets her hands roam his body, feeling the hard planes of his muscles through the silky fabric of his robe and sighs a little. Spock pulls back and holds her face in one hand, looking her in the eye as he reaches up with the other to pull out the ornate pin that holds her hair up. Slowly he lifts it from where it sits the elaborately constructed bun that T'Ayin had so carefully put together earlier that evening. She smiles at his expression as her hair unravels, tumbling around her shoulders in a mass of curls – a combination of the Vulcan heat, scented oil and the braids she's worn all evening. He blinks and follows the path of his fingers as he lovingly runs them through the soft strands before proceeding to delicately divest her of her gown.

Nyota can practically feel the sweep of his eyes over her body as the fabric pools at her feet and she flushes hotly. His Adam's Apple bobs in his throat and he lets his hands gently stroke across her back and down to the curve of her backside as she loosens the fastenings on his robe. She admires the sculpted planes of his body in the half light, he's beautiful she thinks but the thought barely has time to register before he's kissing her again and she can't think anymore. She feels him hard and hot against her stomach and when he pulls away she's thrumming with want.

He looks her in the eye, drawing her closer as his hand slides across her cheek and her lashes flutter as she feels the press of his consciousness against her own. In her mind she hears music, the voice of the Vulcan girl singing at her in a language she can't quite understand although in that moment, the meaning seems suddenly very clear. She let's out a long breath and sags against him, Spock's strong arms scooping her up and carrying her towards the bed. Gently he lays her across the cool sheets and caresses every inch of her, kisses every inch of her until she's a jibbering incoherent mess but that's alright because before long he's a jibbering incoherent mess too. She loves him, she thinks as she sits across his lap, his thick fingers digging into her hips as she rises and falls above him. She doesn't stop to think how dangerous it is to have such thoughts while their together like this, she knows there is no hiding from him and Spock watches her with wild eyes as she moves.

"Haaaaa," he hisses, one hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her closer for a kiss. His teeth are sharp and she gasps, her collarbone stinging as he marks her. She digs her nails into his shoulder hard as she comes and her vision blurs, dots of light like stars dancing across her eyes as she slumps across him

"The sunlight has damaged your retinas," he mumbles at her as they lay coiled together afterwards and she huffs vague amusement against his skin, her limbs tingling and heavy and the slow sweep of his fingers over her shoulder lulling her to sleep.

Vulcan's first sun is barely over the horizon when she wakes and Nyota spies Spock sitting quietly before the shrine in the corner of the bedroom. She watches him for a long minute before eventually he cracks open one eye and peeks at her. Without speaking, she rises and pads nude across the floor to sink down beside him. He takes her hands in his own and they sit like that for a long time before they get dressed.

She finds herself filled with a mournful kind of melancholy as she prepares breakfast. She knows the feeling, it's the same one she gets on the last morning when she's home from the Academy and has to leave her parents house. She thinks T'Ayin can sense it as her hostess carefully guides her through a recipe for plomeek, real plomeek made from scratch. Nyota isn't offended because she knows what T'Ayin is doing – there is the distinct possibility in the next few days that Nyota will be staying somewhere that she is a guest but Spock is not and she will have to make breakfast for a very discerning Vulcan gentleman who it is imperative that she impress.

Soraya helps, in the way that small children do, passing Nyota one by one the spice berries that give plomeek its purple hue although the little girl eats half of them before they make it into the soup. She shares them with her baby brother and Nyota struggles to repress her laughter as T'Ayin gently wipes Somik's face clean of the purple juice that he has managed to cover himself in.

There have been more tremors during the night Sorn tells her over breakfast and the way he talks about it reminds her of a San Francisco native talking about the rain, like it is the most uninteresting everyday occurrence. He reminds her that Vulcan as a whole is prone to seismic disturbance and she glances at Spock, repressing the urge to make a quip about feeling the earth move. In all seriousness though Nyota is impressed she didn't feel a single tremor all night but then since she's been on Vulcan slumber has felt more like a temporary coma than sleep even if she doesn't really feel any better rested for it. That constant dull fatigue still plagues her in spite of Spock's endless tri-ox shots and glass after glass of red tea.

Nyota supposes she must have done well with the soup because Tarik  _inhales_ it. Before he leaves for school she gives him a copy of Boieldeu's Concerto for Harp printed on Terran paper, something she has been assured will transpose acceptably onto the Vulcan lyre by another lyre playing Vulcan with whom she is acquainted.

"I have been told that you might find such a task challenging," she tells him as he looks at it. Tarik's lashes flutter and he stares at it for a minute, his eyes scanning the alien notations that cover the page from left to right instead of up and down like Vulcan music is written. His brow furrows and when he meets her eye he takes a deep breath.

"This will be deserving of more than one square," he tells her _._

"For this Tarik, I will give you an entire bar," she promises and she's not sure, but perhaps, maybe, just a little, he smiles at her.

"It was nice to meet you," he intones softly in Standard, holding his hand out for her to shake and Nyota blinks at him slowly, touched by the gesture.

"And you Tarik," she replies, shaking it up and down once, twice, three times. She starts a little, a sensation like luminous plasma racing up her fingers as she takes his hand.

"Yes," he says looking her in the eye for a minute but Nyota is too stunned to speak and before she can reply he is gone.

They will be heading East across the Plains of Gol but it will be a few days before they reach ShiKahr. Nyota is both eager and apprehensive, the Vulcan desert is notorious across the galaxy and Spock has told her that where they are going there is little technology and virtually no creature comforts. He has warned her that this is a wilderness, that it will be testing but she is choosing to view it as a kind of spiritual retreat – after all, isn't that what Vulcans do? Disappear off into the desert in search of logic? Nyota could do with some logic, she thinks, anxious as she is ShiKahr.

She busies herself in the bedroom packing the last of her things and chooses to ponder instead what Spock and his cousin are doing on the balcony. It's not the same as when Spock shares his mind with her but it's still a private, intimate thing and she leaves them be even if she is curious. She plucks the green robe from the floor and feels a little guilty at being so careless with something so delicate, lovingly folding it before placing it gently into her case. She holds the hairpin up to the light, twiddling it in her fingers for a second before she lays it on top and closes the lid.

They are accompanied to the transit point by T'Ayin, Sorn and Somik who has by now warmed up considerably to Nyota. He babbles at her continuously all the way there but Nyota isn't sure quite how to respond – does one coo at Vulcan babies? Instead she hums in agreement with whatever it is he's trying to communicate and tells him it is fascinating. As they wait to board their shuttle, she blinks at him and he smiles broadly back, unconcerned with logic as babies everywhere are wont to be. He sloppily presses his hand to her face and she feels the gentle buzz of his baby mind, nothing more, nothing less. Nyota lets out an amused huff of breath and just thinks to herself that he's very sweet because she doesn't know then how that feeling will haunt her.

Nyota stands before T'Ayin and looks her in the eye as they bid one another farewell. T'Ayin's expression is blank but her eyes are soft as Nyota speaks.

"I have been told that Vulcan's do not express gratitude," she says. "But I am not Vulcan."

"No you are not," T'Ayin agrees.

"You have made me _..._ " Nyota hesitates and her brow furrows. "I apologize, I do not know how to express this...logically." T'Ayin blinks and let's Somik curl his fingers around her own.

"There is no need to express that which is already known," she says simply. Nyota holds her gaze for a long moment. "Live long and prosper, Nyota Uhura," T'Ayin says, raising her hand in that familiar salute. Nyota smiles with her eyes and raises her own hand.

"Peace and long life," she replies.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song the Vulcan girl sings is a real (Terran) song, here is a translation of the lyrics. If you want to hear the original PM me and I will send you a linky.
> 
> I smelled your scent, I knew you were here  
> I don't believe in coincidences anymore  
> When you called for me I came, you called by/from your heart  
> I don't get surprised by anything anymore  
> Are you really a stranger?  
> Are we really enemies?  
> Have you erased seven years from your memory, have you really forgotten?
> 
> I don't believe, have you really forgotten?
> 
> I held my mind (under control), you are so missed (I have missed you so much)  
> When I love someone once, I cannot break up  
> Am I really banned/forbidden?  
> Are we really enemies?  
> Have you locked your heart with seven locks, can it really not be opened again?
> 
> I don't believe, have you really forgotten?
> 
> Is it myself I see in you?  
> The ones face whom I kissed in forbidden dreams  
> I don't believe
> 
> I don't believe, have you really forgotten?
> 
> Kinda pon farr-ey eh?


	8. Chapter 8

In the shuttle Nyota observes through the window as the city disappears over the horizon, the sky gradually fading from a cooling blue to a dusty orange as the sea gives way to the arid Golian plateau below. She imagines how it must have been in days gone by, weary travellers coming out of the desert to that oasis by the sea and she can't help but feel that spirit still persists in the city. Gol was an exotic, vibrant place thrumming with the energy of centuries of repressed Vulcan emotions but as the Plains of Gol spread out before them she starts to realize that she's only glimpsed the soul that lies beneath the apparently barren Vulcan surface.

Spock is mostly silent, the atmosphere in the shuttle subdued and Nyota quells a strange sensation in her stomach. Many of the seats are empty, the carriage quiet except for the murmur of the engines and Nyota observes the other passengers with a mixture of interest and unease. One man in particular has her attention and she glances at him now and then as the shuttle grows closer to their destination. He stared at her as he entered the car behind them and she had at first thought little of it, passing it off as another curious Vulcan gaze at the Terran visitor. She realizes now though that there is something not quite right about this Vulcan.

He sits beside the window, placid by Human standards but restless for a Vulcan. He shifts in his seat, occasionally emitting a long weary breath and shaking his head. She spies in his hand a string of beads that he worries almost constantly throughout the journey, his hands clenching and unclenching around them. Nyota peers between the headrests and when she notices the dots of green that marr his palm she realizes there is something much more serious going on. Her mouth goes dry.

Spock seems unmoved but she's certain he senses her anxiety and when he strokes two fingers over the back of her hand she feels like a little weight lifts from her shoulders. She blinks at him, trying to convey a smile and he holds her gaze. He distracts her by handing her a bottle of water and, much to her chagrin, one of the loathsome mineral supplements. She sucks it and stares out of the window, swaying a little at the prick of a needle on her neck. At the slight hiss of the hypo the traveller dips his head down and to the side and Nyota can see his eyes slide towards her for a minute before there is an announcement and his attention is diverted away from her.

They are informed by the pilot that there is a sandstorm over Tevik-kahr, their destination, and that they will be circling the area for a few minutes until ground control give them the all clear to land. The shuttle climbs higher to avoid the dustcloud, skirting the stratosphere and Spock takes the opportunity to divert her attention from their travelling companion to give her a meterology lesson.

The strange traveller mutters to himself occasionally but Nyota pays him no heed, fascinated as she peers through the window and observes the sandstorm from above, feeling a frisson of glee every time she sees the sandfire glowing in the dustcloud below.

Twenty minutes pass before they finally begin their descent into Tevik-Kahr and although she does not mention it, Nyota is glad to be parting company from the strange Vulcan. As they emerge from the shuttle onto the landing pad she is immediately assaulted by an abrasive sandy breeze and the oppressive Vulcan heat. Spock has told her that it was hotter in Vulcana Regar but they had stayed underground then and Nyota starts to wonder what she's let herself in for by agreeing to go into the Vulcan desert. She pulls her hood up over her head, grateful to T'Ayin for her advice as the sting of the wind abates. Her hair and face are covered except for her eyes and Nyota's lashes flutter as her eyes adjust to the hazy view from the landing pad.

She observes as the strange Vulcan is met by two hooded figures and Nyota can tell immediately that they are from a sanctuary, garbed in the white robes of Vulcan monks. They lead him away across the landing platform and through a tunnel in the rock, presumably that leads into Tevik-kahr proper. She glances around as Spock attends to their luggage; they are sending most of it on ahead and taking only the bare essentials with them.

The landing pad is located on the side of a mountain and Nyota takes a minute to appreciate the hazy vista over the desert beyond. She spies a dust demon in the distance, a flashing tornado of swirling dust and sandfire that flails about over the ground as it moves away. As it passes she spies the outline of some buildings in the receding clouds and curious, digs around in her bag for some binoculars. The outlines becomes clearer and she realizes that they are actually ruins, a whole city crumbling in the dust.

"Tevik-kahr," Spock tells her as he approaches from behind. Nyota lowers the binoculars and looks up at him.

"Tevik," she states thoughtfully. "The Dead City." Spock nods.

"It was destroyed during the Time of Awakening," he explains and she turns her head back to the ruins as he speaks. "A single hydrogen bomb wiped out its entire population." Nyota feels suddenly very strange as his words sink in.

"All those people," she murmurs. "Dead in an instant." Spock nods and they are silent for a minute, standing in a morose kind of gloom until eventually Spock speaks.

"They say it is haunted by sirshos'im," he tells her and her brow furrows as she translates.

"Soul...eater," she murmurs, scowling up at him. "Spock!" He quirks a brow at her and gently clasps her elbow, ushering her towards the exit.

"They say to set foot in Tevik-kahr is to be driven mad," he continues and Nyota rolls her eyes, smiling beneath the veil that covers her face. "That at night you can hear the screaming of the tortured katras on the wind."

"The proverbial  _they,_ " she scoffs but deep down she loves it and the twitch of Spock's lips tells her that he knows but then they disappear through the tunnel in the rock and leave the dead city to the dust.

They emerge on the other side to find a settlement nestled in a small outcrop of rocks. As they move down the path into the town itself Nyota looks out over the desert, spying the purple peaks of the Llangon mountains in the distance. The Watcher covers half the sky, its colors muted by the bright sun but vibrant all the same. The sand of the Nehfur was light yellow, almost white but here it is a vivid orange red. It is an undeniably alien vista but it is stunning nonetheless and Nyota hesitates halfway down the mountain, awestruck by its beauty.

Spock hovers a little way in front and she is grateful although unwilling to admit that she is a little bit nervous about this entire venture. This place has an isolated provincial feel and she feels stupid for having such thoughts because she is covered from head to toe apart from her hands and eyes and nobody can even tell she's not Vulcan. As they reach the town, she becomes aware of the buzzing of insects in the air. They swarm around her and Nyota has to bat her hand in front of her eyes to discourage them. Later she is grateful when Spock ushers her into a bathroom with a bottle of pungent oil with a scent like cloves and instructions to douse herself in it because strong smelling as it is, the insects cannot stand it and after that they don't bother her.

The storm is still passing over the desert ahead and they wait around a while for it to clear. By then of course the sunlight is at its strongest and not even a Vulcan is foolish enough to venture out into the desert until the second sun is past its zenith. Spock installs her in a small but clean room at what she supposes passes for a halt station and tells her to rest while she has the chance. He shows her briefly their planned itinerary on a holographic map that projects from a tiny device on a table in the lobby before hustling her up the stairs. She lies on the bed and promises him she will rest but as soon as he leaves to finalize things for their journey she's at the window watching the comings and goings in the town below. She spies the odd palm not unlike the ones she saw in Gol and odd scrubby looking bushes scattered here and there along the dusty footpaths that criss cross the odd congomeration of buildings that spill out from the cliffs around the town. She observes a long line of white robed figures gathering by the ornate stone archway that demarcates the city boundary from the wilderness beyond. Spock has already explained that where they are going is considered sacred ground and that they will likely encounter mendicants in pursuit of Kolinahr and other Vulcan disciplines. Nyota wonders if the strange Vulcan is with them and she wonders where he is going, what he is looking for in the desert. She wonders what  _she_ will find in the desert. Spock has told her that the peculiar geology of this region renders many modern technological devices obsolete, that they will be living by more...  _primitive_  means. Nyota idly flicks through the kitbag they will be carrying with them, running her fingertips over the carved stone blades and wondering what kind of geology makes it hazardous to even carry metal.

They are not travelling on foot like the monks she'd seen through the window, partly because they don't have time and partly, Nyota suspects, because she is too feeble and Human to handle it. When it is finally time to leave Spock leads her out onto the sand and introduces her to their transport.

She isn't quite sure how she would describe the chorka to someone who hasn't seen one. She didn't even realize such a creature existed before she had visited Ancient Gol but she supposes that it was stupid to think that there wouldn't have been some Vulcan equivalent to the horse or in this case perhaps camel is a closer Terran approximation. It is screaming blue murder as the stablehand guides it out onto the sand towards them, tugging against the restraints until its keeper rubs his hand against its nose and it seems to calm a little. It snorts aggressively at Spock as he takes the reigns, its eyes rolling maniacally in its head until Spock reaches up and places his hand on its face. Spock closes his eyes and the beast does likewise, growing calm and placid and Nyota marvels at what she is witnessing. She feels awed and slightly inadequate but then the chorka turns to her and gives her a long, hard sniff, nudging her with its face and sliding its trunk-like nose across her with intense curiosity. She tries to convince herself it is the strong oil she's smeared all over herself and not her Humanity that the beast is smelling. Still, it's quite an experience not least of all when its long green tongue snakes under the edge of her veil and into her earhole. Nyota shudders and twists away from it, hurriedly pulling her hood back up to hide the round ear the beast has exposed during its investigation. The chorka makes a kinda of loud snorting grunt and when she looks back at it, it seems almost amused. Nyota glances at Spock to find him wearing an expression of barely concealed mirth but then a moment later he wraps his scarf over his mouth and nose and it is a good few hours before she sees his face again.

Behind her she hears the hum of another shuttle arriving from she knows not where and she glances over her shoulder to see it sinking down behind the hills out of sight. Around them white robed Vulcans flit between the animals, adjusting the straps on their saddles and checking that the various bags and boxes are well secured. Monks, Spock explains, gathering supplies for one of the sanctuaries that lies in foothills of the Llangon mountains ahead of them. Nyota observes and feels oddly comforted that such things go on even on a planet as advanced as Vulcan. She thinks about the Maasai at home and how they still hold to the old ways, even as the society around them rushes onwards in a world of replication and hoverbikes, the trails of Starships ghosting through the atmosphere high above their heads.

Nyota feels odder still when Spock moves close and stoops down beside her to wrap his arms around her thighs. She gasps a little as he hoists her into the air and sets her bodily onto the saddle strapped across the chorka's broad back. She holds on tight to a tall stump on the saddle and Spock glances up at her, blinking at her for a second before passing her the single bag they are taking with them. She holds it on her lap, feeling the weight of the extra water they are obliged to carry pressing against her legs as Spock takes the reins in his hands and urges the chorka on. It grunts and wheezes for a second before letting out a strange kind of  _pok pok pok_ sound, jerking its head back and forth and sticking its long green tongue out before it finally lurches forward. She holds on tight, buffeted from side to side as the chorka plods along at a slow, lumbering pace while Spock walks beside them. Noyta feels uncharacteristically helpless and she's not sure she likes it but she soon realizes she's not the only one being carried along in this manner, spying another Vulcan woman on a chorka a short distance ahead.

They pass through the archway and out onto the dunes, trailing behind a dozen or so other chorka in a caravan that moves in a long line along the brow of the dunes. Nyota can hear the ghost of the wind as it brushes over the dunes, peering through slitted eyes at the slow sliding sands that shift across the horizon and shivering at the thought of tormented katras before chiding herself for being so silly. The chorka's feet thud against the ground and each step sends a tiny trail of sand slipping downwards and she sees herself in silhouette, the long legs of the chorka stretched out in shadow across the sand. It is still too hot, Spock has explained, for them to really move, that chorka are a stubborn, willful species and that it is no small miracle that they consent to be ridden at all. Nyota smiles beneath her veil and thinks that with their stubbornness and their pointy ears that chorka remind her of another species native to this planet.

They move across the dunes at a walking pace, the suns slowly moving across the sky ever nearer to the horizon. Nyota is quiet, taking in the strange smells on the desert air and observing their travelling companions curiously. She is aware of the Vulcan woman on the chorka ahead turning occasionally and glancing at her, glancing everywhere it seems and shifting about in her seat like a child. The man walking beside her, her husband or father or brother, Nyota supposes, occasionally reaches up and touches her or makes a vague gesture with his hands.

They have been underway for an hour or so Nyota reckons when their group come to a stop, the chorkas beginning suddenly to grunt and wheeze, straining against their Vulcan guides. A moment later she realizes why as a low, rumbling tremor pulses through the ground beneath them. Nyota holds on tight and feels herself shunted sideways, observing as Spock braces himself against the chorka's side to keep from sliding down the dune. She manages not to fall off and as soon as it starts the tremor ceases but ahead there is some muffled shouting. Nyota watches as two of the monks ahead jog down the side of a dune to retrieve a case that has come loose from the back of the chorka carrying it. She smiles beneath her veil as one of them slips and rolls head over feet down the slope but more surprising is the loud laughter that emanates from the Vulcan woman. Nyota is shocked although none of the Vulcans save for the woman's companion make any indication that they are in any way affected by her outburst. He reaches up and catches her hands, placing them firmly on the pole on the saddle and murmuring something to her even as she is still laughing. As Nyota listens she realizes there is something off about the sound, that the laughter is childish, almost...deranged. She glances at Spock but his eyes give nothing away and a little while later, they move off again.

The suns are sinking faster now and they stop once more. This time Spock climbs up onto the back of the chorka and Nyota shuffles forward, nestling in between his legs as he adjusts the reins in front of her. It's cooler now, the chorka are waking up and Nyota finally sees why this strange, ungainly creature is so useful. If its gait was lumbering and awkward before, the chorka seems to morph into another animal altogether as it runs. They move forward at a breathtaking pace, the sound of the air rushing past her ears. Before long the foothills loom larger on the horizon and Nyota glances up at Spock but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are fixed on the distance and his hands grip the reins tightly, his arms locked around her in a protective embrace as they ride.

Nyota is sure how much time goes by but she comes to regret not napping while she had the chance. It seems however that the heat and the dust and the constant rocking of the chorka are no deterrent to her biology. She dozes, waking up what feels like hours later to find her self slouched against Spock's chest, the fabric across her mouth sticky with drool. They are moving more slowly now and when she glances blearily around she realizes the suns have set.

"Hey," she squeaks very quietly, turning to glance up at Spock over her shoulder.

"Greetings yuk-veh," he tells her, his voice cracked from disuse. Nyota smiles beneath her veil at the epithet. S _leepy-one._  She takes a deep breath in, her face screwing up as she stifles a yawn and she nods.

"Was I asleep long?" she asks him drowsily. She spies his brow twitch beneath his hood.

"I wondered if you had succumbed to the sirshos'im," he tells her.

"Not quite,"she mumbles, smiling beneath her veil. "I'm thirsty," she says a few minutes later.

"Ha," Spock replies. "We will be stopping for the night very soon." Nyota is glad to hear it, her backside aches from riding all day and she thinks her legs haven't woken up even if she has.

They ride on for a little while longer and as they pass from the dunes into the rocky outcrops that signify the beginning of the moutains, Nyota becomes vaguely aware of a strange warbling sound just ahead of them. It is the Vulcan woman and when Nyota peers through the dim light at her, she notices she is swaying from side to side with the lurching of the chorka.

"Is she...?" she begins to ask Spock.

"Yes," he says in a low voice before she can finish her enquiry. Nyota drops her eyes to the sandy ground.

"What's she saying?" she asks a second later. Spock takes a deep breath in and lets it out of his nose before he answers.

"It is a child's song," he explains.

"Uh huh," Nyota presses softly. Spock smacks his lips a little.

"It is...hard to translate," he tells her and she nods.

"Please try," she implores, looking up at him and batting her lashes. Spock peers down at her and she smiles at the look on his face.

"This widowed girl certainly will not die, tomorrow the heart is all that's left, kernel candy, sugar candy seed, I stir it up with this old spoon, the sugar candy seed." Nyota screws her face up.

"That's...morbid and...makes no sense," she complains quietly. "That's a child's song?" Spock meets her eye and nods.

"I think our friend is not quite herself," he says diplomatically a minute later. Nyota falls quiet and continues listening as they travel on.

They pass in single file through the hills, following a narrow track between the sheer cliffs that rise up on either side of them. The path twists and turns and Nyota wonders if they are ever going to stop until eventually they come out into an opening in the rock, flickering torches lighting up a facade carved into the purple stone. It's beautiful, Nyota thinks.

When Spock helps her down to the ground she wonders if she's going to be able to walk at all, her joints crack and her legs feel weird from being in the saddle all day. She takes a few tentative steps and wobbles a little, Spock gently catching her with a hand to the elbow. The chorka wander around the sandy ground, heading towards a crumbling stone trough and whining at eachother as they try to squeeze in for a drink. Nyota licks her lips and digs around in the bag for her canteen, pulling her veil down off her face and taking a long drink as she watches a few white robed figures emerge from the doorway to help unload the supplies. She doesn't offer to help and nobody asks her but she observes as Spock weighs in, taking one end of a long box and carrying it up the stairs. She loiters outside, ambling along the steps and examining the worn carvings in the rock. At the bottom, the glyphs are older, not dissimilar to the paintings on the wall at the Academy in Gol. Further up the carvings are less worn, the glyphs familiar. She traces one with her finger.

"Cthia," she murmurs quietly. It has several translations in Standard. Reality. Being. Logic. Spock tells her none of them are really accurate even if it means all of those things. After a minute Nyota looks up to see the strange Vulcan woman standing just outside the door of the sanctuary, regarding her with curious eyes. Nyota meets her gaze and shivers a little, the woman's black eyes glittering in the torchlight but if Nyota is discomfited the feeling evaporates when the woman smiles at her. Nyota's eyes go wide but a moment later the woman's companion appears and ushers her inside.

Spock returns and escorts her into the sanctuary. They are greeted by a number of white robed acolytes lead by one Osu Sakim who might just be the oldest Vulcan Nyota has ever seen. She says nothing, bowing graciously as Osu Sakim runs his wise old eyes over her before moving on. She wonders if he is aware of her Humanity, her brows and ears still hidden by her hood.

Nyota isn't going to complain about their quarters but when Spock had told her the facilities would be basic, she did not really imagine quite how basic they would be. There is no mattress, the bed consisting of a flat stone bench carved into the rock. There is a shelf cut into the wall bearing a jug, two cups and a large bowl that she presumes is for washing, thinking back to Varel's house in Vulcana Regar. There however the pottery was smooth and ornate, like fine porcelain. This is rough and coarse like purple terracotta. As before no one says anything about them sharing, at least not until supper time when Nyota finds herself once more under the scrutiny of the strange Vulcan woman.

A gong sounds quietly through the winding passages in the cliff that make up the sanctuary and after a very brief wash, Spock escorts her to the dining area. It is situated in low ceilinged cave that opens out at one end to a stunning vista of the mountains beyond, the Watcher covering the sky behind the peaks. T'Rukhemai clearly visible tonight as it makes another pass between T'Khasi and T'Rukh. As they enter Nyota observes monks and the visitors alike sitting in a haphazard circle around a firepit, the desert night noticeably cooler than the scorching heat of the day although she supposes it might only seem that way to a Vulcan because to her the heat of the night is almost as oppressive as it is in the day. They share a strange meal of very thin plomeek soup that is nothing like T'Ayin's recipe and strips of a kind of odd vegetable jerky that reminds Nyota of seaweed. It's chewy and salty but the flavor belies its origins and until that point Nyota has never imagined that it would be possible for anything to taste like the desert. She is grateful for the soup however, happy to consume anything that might quench her never-ending thirst.

As she drinks her soup she glances over the rim of her bowl to find the Vulcan woman watching her, a curious expression on her face as she chews her vegetable. Nyota can see her more clearly now, her face undeniably young and her eyes wide and innocent. Nyota wonders how old she is but then her companion leans close and murmurs something to her. The young woman turns to listen to him and Nyota takes a deep breath of astonishment as she sees a long scar marring the side of her head. The woman glances up at her sheepishly once more before dropping her eyes to the floor and Nyota wonders if her companion, her father she suspects, hasn't told her that it is rude to stare. Nyota isn't sure if it's because she knows she's Human or if it is because she's the only other woman there but when the meal is finished the young woman answers that question for her.

"You are Human," she states loudly, coming to sit beside Nyota as the monks clear away the empty dishes. Nyota licks her lips and glances around, aware that all the eyes in the room are pointed in her direction. Spock sits like a stone beside her and watches with hawk eyes.

"Sarin," the young woman's companion chides. Nyota coughs a little and brushes her thighs with her palms reminding herself that Vulcans do not lie.

"I am," she replies placidly. Sarin shuffles closer and smiles unashamedly. Nyota is aware of the scandalized stares of the Vulcans around the room, as much as Vulcans ever express such things outwardly.

"Can I see your ears?" Sarin asks with the enthusiasm of a child. Nyota swallows and glances around the room for a minute, meeting Spock's eyes for a second before sitting up a little straighter. She reaches for her hood and hesitating for just a moment, pulls it down to uncover her head. The Vulcan girl's face lights up and her mouth falls open as Nyota's round Human ears are revealed. "Can I touch them?" she gasps.

"Sarin!" her companion repeats, louder this time as he rises from his seat and approaches. The girl's face falls and her shoulders sag. "I apologize," the man explains. "My daughter is unwell." Nyota nods and looks at the scar on her head again, clearer now that the woman is sitting beside her.

"There is no offence where none is taken," Nyota tells them, recalling something she'd read in a Vulcan book years before. "Curiosity is healthy" she adds and Sarin seems to cheer up a little, looking Nyota in the eye again and smiling a little.

"I had an accident," she explains, seeming suddenly more grown up and more Vulcan than she had before. Nyota's eyes unfocus a little and she stares into the middle distance over Sarin's shoulder as her words sink in. This girl is brain damaged, that's why she sings and smiles and laughs when no other Vulcan would. Nyota swallows again and looks back at the girl.

"That is unfortunate," she says eventually, not quite sure how to respond. Sarin sighs.

"That is what they tell me," she says in a tone that indicates she doesn't quite believe it. Nyota thinks back to the strange man on the shuttle, to the blood on his palms and thinks that there are many things she still does not know about this apparently docile, placid people. She glances at Spock who watches with mild concern in his eyes. Sarin tracks the movement of her eyes and looks at Spock.

"Your eyes are like hers," she says bluntly and Nyota feels a twinge of embarrassment. Spock however seems unmoved.

"Yes," is his only reply. Sarin's father turns to Spock and tilts his head to one side, considering Spock for a long moment.

"You are the hybrid Spock," he says with gentle interest. Spock stiffens a little and Nyota licks her lips, aware of the curious eyes of Vulcans around the room.

"I am," Spock answers after a protracted pause. Sarin's father bows a little.

"I am Tavin," he says by way of introduction. "May I sit?" he asks, gesturing at an empty stone beside them. Spock says nothing but bows his head in assent.

"When I am healed I intend to visit Earth," Sarin tells Nyota enthusiastically. "I very much wish to swim in your oceans and study marine wildlife." Nyota smiles back ever so slightly.

"That sounds like an interesting plan," she says gently and Sarin smiles.

"Before her accident my daughter was a student of exobiology at the Vulcan Science Academy," Tavin tells them and Spock nods. Nyota wants to ask what happened but dare not for fear of offending them. Her fear is misplaced however as Sarin speaks up.

"I crashed my hoverbike," she says nodding vigorously.

"Oh," is all that Nyota can manage.

"Are you lovers?" Sarin asks a minute later, looking at Spock and back at Nyota who flushes hotly and stares at the floor.

"Sarin," her father says once more. "Do you remember what we talked about?" Sarin seems unconcerned and smiles at Nyota with a wistful expression.

"In the old days lovers would go into the desert to get married in secret," she says in a breathless voice. "Is that why you've come?" Nyota looks at Spock but his expression gives nothing away. She thinks about the vagueness of his words on the beach and wants desperately to ask him, is that why we've come?

A gong sounds through the halls and Sarin sighs, pushing up from her seat a moment later and moping along beside her father as he ushers her out of the room. Nyota rises and falls into step beside Spock, cursing him silently as they move towards the door.

It is time to meditate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chorka is apparently extinct by this point in time but for the sake of the story I resurrected it. The alternative was the jarel, a kind of pony with a horn and I just couldn't bring myself to have Spock and Uhura riding on a puny space unicorn through the epic Vulcan desert.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your reviews. It really means a lot when readers leave comments especially when they are as lovely these have been! Extra thanks to Valyria for her beta reading and moral support. PQxxx

Even if she's studied yoga on and off for years Nyota struggles to suppress her discomfort at being in the same pose for so long. She is worn out from the journey, her head heavy and her limbs stiff against the hard stone beneath her. Spock sits beside with his eyes closed and she marvels at that Vulcan discipline, that he can appear so composed after the day they've had while she can still feel the rocking of the chorka in her legs and the hot stroke of the sun on her head.

She blinks in the dim light of the shrine, supposing for a moment that it must seem much darker to her Human eyes as she lets her gaze flit briefly around the cavern cut deep within the rock. It is a cave of that same purple stone although it seems almost black in the darkness and the walls engraved with more crumbling glyphs like the entrance outside, the torchlight flickering across the carved reliefs and casting the room in an ethereal glow. At one end there is a low stone altar behind which she spies Vulcan calligraphy much like she saw in Vulcana Regar although this time it seems to be in the shape of a bird instead of a tree. She can't tell what it says, uncertain if it is merely the ornamental script that makes it difficult to read. At its base, obscured by the flickering flames of an oil lamp is a niche in which appear to be three egg shaped stones of emerald green and Nyota tilts her head to one side as she ponders their significance.

Across the chamber she hears a shuffle and a long sigh of breath and glancing discreetly towards the sound she spies Sarin shrugging her shoulders and twisting her neck. Nyota isn't sure how she feels at the thought that the only other person struggling as much as she is a brain damaged Vulcan girl but then she thinks that maybe she is cruel for having such thoughts. She stares at the floor, wondering to whom that is most offensive – the Human race or to Sarin and every other Vulcan like her. Her brow furrows and she takes in a long, slow breath as she ponders this thought, her nostrils filling with the pungent scent on incense that drifts from the altar ahead of her. She tries to relax, breathing deeply and closing her eyes but whenever she does her head spins and they fly open again. She starts to find the thought of that flat stone bed very appealing.

Some time passes and Nyota is just beginning to center her thoughts when a low rumble passes through the chamber. She opens her eyes as the earth vibrates with another tremor, a vague hiss behind her as sand spurts out of a crack above the doorway. There is a flutter of noise from Sarin and when Nyota glances towards her she sees a white robed figure approach, kneeling down beside the girl and her father. She lets her eyes go out of focus and tries to hear what the monk is saying as he murmurs in a low voice, watching as he reaches forward and places Sarin's hand on top of his own. Gently he runs two fingers across her palm, holding them in the center for a long moment and Nyota observes with interest as Sarin calms, her eyes falling closed and her head slowly dipping forward. Nyota blinks and finds the monk looking directly at her, his youthful face blank yet somehow kind. He holds her gaze and she feels a strange sensation deep within her, like a knot unfurling. She drops her eyes to the floor and takes a slow breath before letting her gaze come to rest once more on the calligraphy etched into the wall behind the altar. She stares at it for a long time, finding herself lost in the elegant whorls of Vulcan script and before she realizes, the gong sounds and the meditation is over.

Nyota's brow furrows slightly as she rises to her feet, the chamber emptying slowly as the Vulcans shuffle quietly towards the door. Spock hovers a short distance away and when she finally looks up at him, he blinks her in that gentle, feline way of his. She blinks back, smiling with her eyes as they turn towards the exit but as they approach she notices Sarin's monk hovering just inside the door. His hood is pushed back to reveal almost comically large pointed ears, his black hair glossy and perfectly neat. He meets her eye and tilts his head imperceptibly to one side. As she moves closer he bows respectfully before he speaks.

"I am Tisek," he states and Nyota dips her head a little.

"I am...Nyota Uhura," she replies, glancing at Spock who observes with a mild expression.

"I am curious as to your presence among us," Tisek says and Nyota opens her mouth and then closes it again, uncertain how to reply. She glances at Spock but he is no help, watching them with his typically blank post meditative expression.

"Why is that?" she replies and Tisek's brow seems to twitch.

"You are Human," he says and Nyota's brows go up a little way, not quite sure how to take his words.

"Yes," is her only reply and Tisek seems to consider her for a long minute before he speaks again.

"During meditation I observed that you seemed...restless," he tells her. Nyota licks her lips.

"I am not adept at the practice," she tells him carefully, holding his gaze as he looks her in the eye and waits for her to continue. "I was also...curious," she admits. Tisek nods slowly.

"About the woman Sarin," he states softly. Nyota's lashes flutter.

"You... _did_  something," she tells him.

"She is troubled," he explains. "I sought to help her."

"How?" Nyota asks and Tisek raises his hands out in front of his body, turning his palms upward in a gesture inviting her to do the same as he steps closer. She glances at Spock who says nothing, observing her with a passivity that is almost disturbing. Nyota swallows and turns back to Tisek, raising her hands out towards him. Gently he holds her hands on his palms, looking at her intently for a moment before he speaks.

"So many questions," he comments. Nyota says nothing but licks her lips and he observes her with interest. "You are weary," he says and Nyota drops her gaze.

"Am I?" she breathes. Tisek raises his fingers and brushes them down her palm like she watched him to do Sarin. Nyota feels a strange sudden stillness inside of her as he moves across her hand, holding the tips of his fingers in the center of her palm.

"You are a curious creature Nyota Uhura," he states placidly, gently releasing her hand and tucking his arms inside the sleeves of his robe.

"I am..." Nyota begins to reply but finding herself suddenly lost for words.

"Human?" Tisek queries and she looks him in the eye.

"Yes," she answers and his eyes seem to twinkle in the torchlight.

"Your people have a reputation for... _curiosity,_ " he says and Nyota nods.

"Yes," is all she can think to say.

"Is that why you have come to the desert? To feed your curious nature?" Tisek probes gently and Nyota licks her lips, her eyes darting to Spock very briefly. "Or perhaps..." he pauses, not missing the movement of her eyes. "Some other reason?"

"I'm not really sure," she tells him. Tisek blinks slowly.

"And what do you think you might find here?" he asks. Nyota considers her reply for a minute before she shrugs.

"I...I don't know," she replies honestly.

"As with so many things in life," he comments and Nyota looks him in the eye, his demeanour friendly, somehow playful in spite of his lack of expression. Her brow furrows slightly at his vagueness. "I noticed your interest in the  _yon-haurok_ ," he says a moment later, gesturing with his chin towards the carving behind the altar.

"Yes," she admits. "I was attempting to decipher its meaning without success." Tesik nods in understanding and steps towards the altar. Nyota turns and looks at the engraving on the wall.

"Be quick to preserve life, be slow to take it," Spock tells her, moving to stand by her side. Nyota does not reply, just stares at it quietly for a minute before her eyes come to rest on the green stones beneath. They stand in silence for a minute Tesik speaks.

"It is alleged that these are the eggs of the yon-haurok," he tells her softly. "They have resided in this sanctuary for many hundreds of years" Nyota looks at him with curious eyes.

"Firebird," she murmurs in Standard and Tesik glances at her. "Yon-haurok," she repeats. "Firebird."

"Fayahburd," Tesik parrots and Nyota cannot help it, she smiles a little. She immediately dips her head, flushing with embarrassment but Tesik seems unperturbed.

"It is said that the yon-haurok lives only for a few moments before it perishes," Tesik continues serenely _._  "That in its short life it experiences more joy than any being could in a hundred lifetimes." Nyota is quiet for a moment as she ponders this.

"Where's the logic in concerning yourselves with something like that?" she asks. Tesik contemplates this for a while before he answers.

"We abnegate joy for logic," he explains. "But nature has a logic of its own." Nyota struggles to understand.

"And what logic is there in this?" she asks him, jerking her chin towards the stone eggs. Tesik's expression grows somehow a little kinder.

"A lesson perhaps," he tells her and Nyota stares at the flickering light reflecting off the wall _._

"Patience?" Nyota muses. "Compassion?" Tesik nods and looks her in the eye as he speaks.

"Both of those things," he says eventually. "The fragility of life, the rareness of beauty." Nyota listens and stares at the reflection of the lamp on the polished green stone _. "_ In nurturing that which has a logic that is not your own." Nyota understands his words but she's not sure she's quite grasped the meaning and she stares at the glyphs for a while as she tries to process. "I hope you find what you seek in the desert, Nyota Uhura" Tesik says, bowing low. "Whatever that may be."

Nyota stares into the burning torch for a while before turning to Spock with a furrowed brow to which he responds with a quirk of his own. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out with a mild huff before she finally speaks.

"I think I'm more confused now than before we started," she complains and Spock nods.

"It is time I think," he says as she steps closer. "To rest."

She is quiet as Spock guides her back to their room and when she sits on the edge of the hard stone bed her weariness overcomes her, sapping her strength like the fabled sirsosh'im.

"Let me," Spock implores softly, kneeling down and helping to slide her boots from her feet. Nyota sways a little and balances herself with a hand to his shoulder. When he meets her eye she smiles at him sleepily, her lashes fluttering over dry eyes. "You must remove your lenses," he reminds her gently and she nods before her face morphs into a slight scowl.

"I don't have a mirror," she says with a tremor of concern in her voice and Spock's lips purse for a moment as he considers this.

"I will assist you," he offers and Nyota gulps hard, not massively thrilled at the prospect of having someone else stick their fingers in her eyeballs – she doesn't exactly enjoy the process herself.

It proves to be in fact far less traumatic than she had feared. Spock is gentle as she tilts her head back and Nyota holds her breath as he cautiously applies drops to her eyes before delicately catching each lens on the tip of his finger. Nyota blinks rapidly and tilts her head forward, her vision blurred and her eyes feeling sore and tired. Spock carefully stows the lenses in a small container and places them on the shelf before pouring her a cup of water. She watches him over the rim as she sips it, half sulking as he fishes out one of the mineral pills and eyeing the hypo on his lap with disdain. She sways sleepily as he pricks her with it, the quiet hiss seeming unnaturally loud in the stillness that pervades the narrow passages of the sanctuary. She is silent as turns to stow it on the shelf before he gently guides her down onto the stone, her face screwing up in discomfort at the hard rock beneath her head. Spock looks at her with tender eyes before stripping off his shirt and folding it up like a cushion, cradling her head in his palm as he slides it under her neck.

"Thankyou," she utters drowsily.

"You are welcome,  _pi'yon-haurok,_ " he murmurs and she sighs, smiling at him sleepily.

"Spock...?" she queries and he blinks at her before raising his hand and silencing her with a gentle brush of his fingers over her face.

"Sleep," he intones and she's not exactly what happens because a second later she falls into a deep sleep.

She was certain she was dreaming, all dust demons and sandfire but it is forgotten the minute she wakes, jolted by the powerful jarring of the earth. Nyota gasps, her eyes opening to the pitch black and she feels like there's a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. Her arms flail in the darkness, her hand connecting with something smooth and warm and she digs her nails into it in terror. Spock's arms go around her a second later and she whimpers, burying her face in his neck as the ground shakes with the strongest quake she's ever experienced. It goes on and on, dust filling the air and the grinding of rock deafening to even her Human ears and Nyota wonders if it's ever going to end. She can hear the cups on the shelf rattling followed by a loud crash as something topples to the floor. She gulps and holds on tighter to Spock, one of his hands on the back of her head while the other strokes down her back soothingly.

When it's over she sits silently and brushes her hair out of her eyes, blinking into the darkness as he slips off the bed and cautiously crosses to the door. His toe connects with something that skitters across the floor with a clank and in the hallway beyond someone approaches with a light source. Spock is silhouetted against the rock for a moment, his appearance strikingly alien as he turns to her.

"Remain here," he tells her in a severe voice, the kind of voice he might use if addressing a classroom of wayward cadets and before she can protest he is disappears into the tunnels. She coughs in the dusty air, pulling her veil up over her nose and mouth and takes a moment to clear her head. It's difficult, it's like there's no air and it's so dark it feel like the walls are closing in. Nyota glances around at the jug smashed to pieces on the floor, the dark stain of water just visible on the sandy ground and she smacks her lips as that endless thirst returns in force. She shuffles off the bed, clenching her jaw and summoning every ounce of strength she has to quell the terror she is feeling as she staggers towards the door. She wants to get out, she  _has_ to get out into the air before she suffocates. When she emerges into the corridor Spock has disappeared from sight and she takes short, sharp breaths through her nose as she considers which way he might have gone.

She looks up and down the hall and heads in the direction with the brightest light, following a bend in the rock and coming out onto a landing screened on one side by a kind of mesh carved into the stone. She peers through the gaps, pressing her fingers into the carved nooks and lets her veil fall as she gasps at the faint breeze that blows from the hall beyond. She takes a few deep breaths, calming a little as she peers through the cracks at the figures moving about in the torchlight below. The white robed figures of the monks float ghostlike across the floor and there are voices shouting in the distance. To her left she hears the sound of footsteps in the caverns beyond and so she turns towards it, following the retreating light around bend in the rock as the passage curves downward.

There are signs of disturbance along the way, the occasional toppled figurine in an alcove or heaps of scattered rubble in the tunnels. As she moves she can hear disembodied voices calling and the occasional shunting of furniture over the ground but as she moves further she becomes aware of a whimpering, groaning sound. She slows her pace and cautiously turns a corner, spying a figure hunched in a alcove in the rock. It is Sarin, Nyota realizes, head in her hands as her father kneels before her murmuring to her softly, torch in hand. Nyota hesitates and considers turning around but before she can move Sarin raises her head, sniffing loudly. Nyota can see the glint of tears on her cheeks and a moment later Sarin's eyes lock with hers.

"What?" she screeches, her expression morphing from frightened to frightful in less than a heartbeat.

Tavin stands abruptly and turns to where Nyota stands frozen in shock, rooted to the spot by the venom in his daughter's eyes.

"Don't you have your own freak to stare at?!" Sarin screams and Nyota gasps, taking two steps back before turning on her heel and fleeing back towards her room. As she turns onto the landing above the hall, she careens into Spock approaching from the other end torch in hand.

"Nyota," he asks, clutching her elbow and a fierce expression painting his brow. "What are you doing?"

"I...uh..." she stammers but before she can say any more the sound of Sarin's screaming rushes along the narrow caverns behind. Nyota shudders and shakes her head, her footsteps stumbling as Spock half drags her back to the safety of their room.

"I told you to remain here," he chides, his brow furrowed in a fierce scowl.

"I'm sorry," she blathers, shaking her head as she tries to make sense of everything that is going on around them. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her lower lips trembling and when he meets her wide eyed gaze he seems to soften a little.

"Ashayam," he murmurs, reaching for her and gathering her up into his arms. Nyota clings on tight and hides her face in his neck as he carries her towards the bed.

"I never...," she utters breathlessly as she sits across his lap, Sarin's cries echoing along the winding caverns. "I didn't expect..." She hesitates and Spock tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, observing her with tender eyes. He is quiet for a moment, letting out a long breath through his nose before he speaks.

"It is over now," he murmurs softly, stroking his hand down her arm and holding her close. She slouches against him, her head tucked under his chin and she revels in the comfort of his embrace.

"I feel so..." she begins, pausing to take a deep breath before she continues. "Human." Spock presses a kiss to her brow and lays his cheek across the top of her head and says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Firebird is an actual (ahem) Vulcan thing, in case you were interested.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Hey folks, sorry for the hiatus, real life and such. Also just to remind you that this is an M rated fic written by ME, peddlar of smut, so you can take the events that unfold in this chapter as a hint of what is to come later on in the story.

Dawn approaches and when they emerge from their den to meditate, Nyota surveys the full extent of the damage wrought by the quake in the night. It doesn't seem so bad now and she wonders if it was her mind playing tricks on her, if it wasn't the emotionality of her response warping her perception and making it all seem much worse than it really was. She sits silently on the edge of the bed as Spock recovers their bag from beneath the dust and feels almost ashamed for her weakness, for her Humanity. Spock's face is severe as he plucks her tri-ox hypo from between the shards of broken pottery that litter the floor of their room.

The casing is cracked, the pressurised contents evaporating in an instant when it fell to the ground during the night.

"I have another," he informs her, clutching the broken hypo in his fist and rising to his feet. Nyota licks her lips anxiously and watches as he digs around inside their bag with barely concealed desperation. "It should be sufficient until we reach Shi-kahr." Nyota keeps quiet as he retrieves another much smaller hypo and holds it up almost a little too eagerly for her to see, meeting his eyes with a timid smile.

They help with first meal as is expected and when they enter the dining area Sarin and her father are there, the girl sitting by the fire pit staring into the flames with an absent expression on her face. Nyota silently trails behind Spock as they are dispatched to fetch water, passing the stone pitchers to him as the spring gurgles impotently down a protrusion in the rock into the neck of each jug. When they return Sarin has turned her back to the room and sits staring out at the fading colors of the Watcher as the first sun climbs towards the horizon.

Breakfast consists of hard Vulcan biscuits and Nyota wonders if she's going to break her teeth on them until she observes the other Vulcans dropping them into their tea, letting them soak for a minute before proceeding to eat them with a spoon like a kind of porridge. They are bland but the tea is sweet and Nyota is grateful, thankful for anything that will wash away the taste of those pills.

As they enter the shrine for morning meditation, it seems to her more or less undamaged save for an excess of dust. She sits like a stone and meditates her heart out, although she must admit she is relieved that Sarin and her father remain conspicuously absent. When the gong chimes, Tisek bows at her with mild eyes and she wonders if he senses her apprehension. She bows back at him and attempts to mirror his tranquillity and when they leave, she carries the memory of his gentleness with her into the desert.

Outside the chorka are restless, stomping their feet and grunting loudly as they loiter around on the dust below the steps. They are unsettled by the tremors in the night, eager to escape the confines of the rocks and onto the open desert beyond. They have a long way to go Spock explains briefly; it occurs to her only later that he has hardly spoken all morning and she finds herself wondering what happened to the garrulous man who walked with her by the Golian sea. He settles her on the saddle before moving around the chorka to check that everything is fastened securely in place. She glances ahead, spying Sarin sitting on a chorka and when she meets the young woman's eyes, Sarin looks away and dips her head in what seems to Nyota rather like shame. She chews her lip, the action hidden beneath the veil that covers her face and thinks about  _cthia_. A moment later Spock climbs on behind her and she can't think about it anymore, at least, not for a while.

The chorka lurches forward and Nyota rocks along with the movement of its hips as it plods along, Spock's strong legs and arms around her at once comforting and unnerving. She feels so...

Nyota doesn't let herself dwell on it. If ever there was a time and a place to channel a bit of Vulcan discipline this is it, she tells herself.

They move forward in a slow line towards the narrow gap in the dark cliffs that jut up into the sky. She turns to look back at the sanctuary as they move away through the early morning light, watching the carved facade grow smaller until it finally disappears between the rocks and is lost from sight.

They go slowly, single file along a twisting turning gap in the cliffs and there are times when Nyota worries for the Vulcans riding up front as they pass under archways cut so low in the rock she marvels they don't crack their heads. It's relatively cool... relatively. The chorka are bristling with energy as though they can sense the open sands ahead but the path meanders so wildly through the cliffs they can't really get up any speed and the animals grunt and whine with frustration.

Eventually the path grows wider, a broad sandy avenue littered with boulders and Nyota feels a blast of heat as Vulcan's first sun appears through narrow gaps in the cliffs that branch off here and there and that lead to she knows not where. The dunes can't be far Nyota reckons, that familiar dusty breeze picking up once more but if she thinks they'll soon be out on the sand she is mistaken because after a while they begin to slow, coming eventually to a complete halt. Their chorka snorts impatiently, shrugging its shoulders as though to convey to them its intense displeasure at being forced to stop when all it wants is to run. She bounces in her seat a little and in front Nyota hears a voice shouting, leaning to one side to get a better view as Spock disembarks to go and see what is causing the hold up. He holds his palm against the chorka's snout for a moment as though to communicate that it should keep an eye on her before he disappears up ahead. In front of her, Nyota spies Sarin talking animatedly with her father and when she turns to glance back at her Nyota drops her eyes to her hands and pretends to busy herself with a buckle on her saddle. It's childish perhaps but she's not quite sure how to deal with her... _feelings_. Spock returns after a few minutes, his handsome face uncovered as he looks up at her.

"The path ahead is blocked," he informs her and Nyota works her jaw back and forth anxiously as he continues. "A landslide in the night."

"What are we going to do?" she asks, her voice muffled by the veil covering her mouth. Spock takes the reigns and begins to guide the chorka back in the direction from which they've just come.

"Go up," is his only reply.

They travel back a distance coming to a halt once more before turning around a large boulder buried in the sand. They trek single file along a narrower path that appears on the other side and after a few minutes Nyota finds herself leaning forward in her saddle as the chorka plods upwards.

Sand gives way to dusty rock as they slowly ascend the cliff, the path growing steeper and steeper and Spock walks beside her as they pass through ever narrower gaps in the rock until eventually it becomes too difficult to ride at all. Spock helps her to the ground and she continues on foot, their steed following along behind. The second sun appears in the sky above and the path grows steeper still, at times so sheer that Nyota has to climb on all fours. She scrabbles over the rocks, turning to take the reigns of the chorka and urge it upwards while Spock shoves the unwilling beast from behind. The chorka whine with displeasure, reluctantly following their Vulcan guides ever higher and Nyota says nothing, valiantly moving onward and upward in spite of the burn in her lungs. It grows hotter, the air gets thinner and the sky above glows a dazzling orange so bright she can't bring herself to look up at it. She focuses instead on the dark rock beneath, the complaints of the chorka and the occasional communication from ahead muffled by the sound of her breathing loud in her ears.

She staggers and Spock is there in an instant, his hand on her arm pulling her back to her feet and if Spock is not there, the chorka is there shoving her along with a butt of its head and an almost sympathetic snort in her ear. She's so thirsty and so tired and its so damned hot that she thinks she going to expire but eventually they near the top. They stop again and Nyota needs no encouragement to sink down onto a boulder, uncaring if it is so hot through her clothes it feels like it might leave scorch marks on her pants. She slouches and in her mind she hears a voice telling her she's crazy for coming here, a feeble Human in the unforgiving Vulcan desert. She lets her eyes fall closed and thinks of Mombasa, the sultry breezes and the blue ocean. She imagines herself staggering down the beach and sinking face first into the water, the waves rocking her over and over until she realizes that it is Spock shaking her. She opens her eyes and peers up at his concerned face.

"Drink," he commands and she complies, tipping the canteen to her lips without hesitation. She drinks and drinks until she can't drink any more, gasping in rapid pants as she opens her eyes and catches her breath. She licks her lips and peers up at Spock but he is silhouetted by the sunlight behind and she can't see his face. She swallows and replaces the cap on the water bottle, forcing herself to stand. As she does so, his eyes come in to focus and she looks right into them and holds his gaze. He stares at her intently but she doesn't flinch and after a minute the tell tale crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes and she smiles at him before sliding her veil back up over her face.

It only takes a minute and they come out onto the top of the cliff, much to Nyota's intense relief and, she realizes as she takes a moment to glance around, unfathomable awe. She stops and turns her head, taking in the entirety of the landscape that spreads out before her. They stand on a ridge of purple rock that stretches out she knows not how far into the distance, sheer cliffs dropping down the to the desert below. To her left lie endless dunes as tall as mountains, sands the color of blood oranges. The twin suns hang low above the horizon, the heat scorching although the long Vulcan day has barely even begun. To her right ribbons of hills ripple over the landscape like waves streaked purple, lilac, pink and red and beyond that, the Llangon mountains stand jutting high into the sky. Crowning it all is the Watcher hanging dead centre, a storm of oranges and browns in the middle of the sky.

Nyota thinks that in spite of the ache in her legs, the last few hours were most definitely worth it, that this entire trip was worth it just for that view. She won't ever forget that sight as long as she lives. She stares, the sound of Vulcan voices fading into the background as she turns her head in a slow semi circle. A hot dry wind gusts in from the desert, salty like the sea and yet completely different. It smells like...thunder, like Kenyan tea masala, like a leaky old cadmium battery, like...Vulcan. A drop of sweat trickles down her forehead but evaporates before it even reaches her brow and she blinks, lightheaded under the fierce sun that she knows is only going to grow even fiercer. When Spock scoops her up and places her back onto the chorka's back she does not resist and when he climbs on beside her, she is comforted by the protectiveness of his arms around her. It makes her feel safe, it makes her feel cherished.

She leans back against his hard body and lets her mind wander, drifting in and out of waking as they ride. She stares at the Watcher and in her mind hears the haunting sound of the dulcimer player and the rattling of the tambours, the stark Vulcan landscape blurring in and out of her consciousness like a dream.

As the suns climb higher in the sky the chorka's pace slows to a plod and they stop again, the Vulcans speaking in rapid voices to one another as they decide the best course of action. They are behind schedule, their pace slowed by the landslide and subsequent climb and over the desert the sky grows hazy as a hot wind gusts down from the Nehfur in the north. Nyota struggles to hear what they are saying and vaguely deciphers that they are debating whether to go down onto the sand or across the hills on the other side. She's not entirely sure yet why they can't decide but when Spock returns he tugs on the chorka's reigns and they start the slow ascent down into the rocky hills that spread out towards the south.

The desert disappears from view but the sweet shade of the cliff is brief as the first sun appears over the brow. The ground dips and rises, the rocky floor undulating beneath them and Nyota feels an odd energy buzz through her limbs. It seems to seep out of the very ground beneath their feet, the air growing tense as they move further south. The chorka don't like the uneven ground and the heat is making them bad tempered but they trek on anyway in spite of the strange foreboding in the air. They pass into a ravine between two long ridges of rock and a hot wind blows hard in their faces, channelled by the hills on either side. Sand gusts up like sleeting rain, slapping against the saddle and stinging her hands. The chorka grow restless and eventually they come to a halt as the wind becomes more severe.

As the wind grows stronger still, Spock dismounts to lead the chorka onwards on foot. The other Vulcans do the same and she screws her eyes up as the sand begins to swirl through the air in front of her, stinging the exposed skin of her face and hands. It grows more severe as they move until she can barely see the chorka in front. The animals call to each other in the dust and below she can just see Spock raise his arm in front of his face, the visibility growing ever poorer as the wind howls past her ears. When she hears the distant crack of sandfire she shivers, a frisson of panic rippling through her. She calms herself with several long slow breaths, carrying out a silent meditation and attempting to summon a stillness she does not truly feel. She tries not to  _feel_ at all but it's difficult. She's so tired and so thirsty and it's so damned hot that she just wants to curl up and hide but she's not so sure she wants to go to ground, the memory of airless caves and cramped passages in the rock still too fresh in her mind.

The sandstorm becomes a tempest and they are forced to seek shelter, their Vulcan guides leading them to a cave nestled behind a boulder. One of the monks scouts ahead inside the cave, checking for sehlats and other such beasts. When he returns she hears the rapid bark of Vulcan and Spock helps her dismount to ushers her through the gap in the rock ahead of him, leading the chorka in behind. As she moves inside it grows darker and darker, the passage narrower and narrow, her breath growing more laboured as claustrophobia sets in. It is loud in her ears until ahead of her she sees the flashing of flint as someone lights a torch – except it's not a torch like she's ever seen. A Vulcan monk holds a small glowing crystal between his finger and his thumb, dropping it into a lamp and twisting the casement around until the crystal becomes blurred and the lantern begins to radiate a soft light. He repeats the action with another crystal and Nyota takes in the undulating walls of the cave, the foreign Vulcan geology rippled with bands of shimmering metals, purple and red stalagmites and stalagtites jutting up and down. It is beautiful, she thinks, like every fantasy of alien worlds she'd ever had as a child lying on the grass in her parents garden staring up at the stars.

The Vulcans urge the chorka to sit and the great beasts seem more than willing to comply, bundling up close together and leaning their heads over eachother's backs in a gesture that they seem to find comforting. Nyota has by now moved past the strangeness of their appearance and finds the whole thing unbearably sweet. Spock guides her deeper into the cave, passing through a gap in the rock and coming into another chamber deeper underground. Inside the walls are carved with glyphs so ancient that they are virtually unreadable and she wonders for how many centuries people have taken shelter here. She sits, Spock ushering her into a nook in the wall and she watches as one of the monks gathers up rocks and carries them back along the passage that leads to the outside. Spock sinks down beside her, pulling his hood down and Nyota blinks at him, taking in the comparative scruffiness of his appearance. His jaw is stubbled and his hair askew and he looks nothing at all like the impeccably groomed Starfleet officer she first met in San Francisco but he's still her Spock, her beautiful freak. The clank of rocks reaches her ears as the entrance to the cave is sealed and when sandfire gleams along the passage, she swallows around the lump in her throat.

It is still in the cave and she is thankful for the serene presence of the Vulcan monks, their heads bowed in meditation as the storm rages on outside. Time passes, she doesn't know how long and the sandfire whips and cracks and the wind howls. Nobody speaks, the chorka shift uneasily and Nyota snuggles imperceptibly closer to Spock. There is the hiss of sandfire crashing against the makeshift door and Nyota snaps her head towards the sound, pulling her knees up against her chest. Spock peers down at her and she pretends not to notice, unwilling to let him know how terrifying she finds it all.

It shouldn't be terrifying.

Nyota wants to feel exhilarated, in a way part of her does but it's all so... _alien._ She feels strange, weary and yet wired, asleep and awake and she's so scared of giving away to much, so conscious of her Human frailty in the midst of the fierce Vulcan wilderness. Maybe she's not as adept at hiding her emotions as she wants to be or maybe it's just because he can sense it, but Spock gently puts an arm around her. She leans against him a little way and a moment later he guides her down to lie with him, hidden from view by a ridge in the rock. The storm is loud but her breathing seems even louder but when she tries to calm herself she just starts to shiver. Spock pulls her closer against his body and rolls towards him, her body aligning against his and her face pressed into the crook of his neck.

His breath is hot against her ear and she gulps, his hand brushing over her hip as he pulls her closer still. The intimacy of the act surprises her but then, it is dark and they are hidden from sight in the rocks. She is grateful, trembling and ashamed because of it because she's better than this, she's stronger than this. She's going to be an officer damn it, she's taken nearly every endurance test that Starfleet has to offer and she never felt quite how she feels now. Feeble, vulnerable, Human. Maybe that's why Spock brought her here, she muses. Maybe. Or perhaps there was another reason.

His breathing loud to her ears and she tenses slightly when she feels him unmistakeably hard against her. There is a shuffle of sound across the cave and she tenses. Spock goes still, his eyes darting to towards the sound and Nyota gulps, digging her teeth into her lower lip. She is vaguely aware of the flicker of shadow across the ceiling and she screws her eyes up with embarrassment. She rolls away from him to stare at the rockface beside her, shivering but not with cold. A moment later, Spock follows and presses against her from behind and shielding her from view with his body.

His hand slides under the hem of her shirt to caress the skin of her back with strong fingers and she gulps. His touch sends waves of sensation through her, of emotions so alien she shudders. Something dark and possessive seeps out of his fingers into her and she is both comforted and frightened by it. Is this her Spock? She closes her eyes as his tongue snakes out and laves wetly across her ear, his hand on her throat tugging her head back until her neck is exposed. She bites her lip as his fingers dig hard into her hip and his mouth fastens on her collarbone. She whimpers a little, screwing her eyes up as she stifles her cries as he bites her hard. Her back arches and her mouth falls open, her face contorting with a silent scream as he grinds against her, his lips on her skin. She grips his thigh hard, her nails digging into his leg through his pants. She's going to have a mark, she knows it as he sucks hard on the place where his teeth dug into her neck. When she twists her neck to peer up at him, the look in his eyes is fierce and wild and she pants, trying to stifle the rasping gasps of breath that escape her. She writhes a little, trapped as she his between his hard body and the wall and as he tightens his grip on her, she trembles even harder. Spock grits his teeth, his hand coming up to her cheek and brushing across her face. She feels the gentle tingle of his mind, a small soothing pulse rippling out him into her and she sighs, melting against the rock beneath. She lets him roll her over onto her back and then he is pulling her closer again. His stare is dark in the shadows of the cave and she screws her eyes up, his nose pressing against hers for a moment as his hand reaches up once more to her cheek. She lets out a long, slow breath as his teeth catch her lower lip and his fingers press against her face and then he's with her.

The things he shows her seem sharply at odds with the Vulcan stoicism that everybody sees and even though she knows that there is more to these people than that it still shocks her a little. She's shocked that he seems to like it, her vulnerability and her fragility and the feeling she gets from him is so masculine and  _primitive_  it makes her head spin. Her logical Spock, her passionate Vulcan with the Human eyes. Nyota supposes it's because it feels so wrong, so wicked to be doing this here that she's tingling with desire, that or maybe it's coming from Spock she isn't sure. His eyes rolls back in his head and she nips at his jaw bone, making his nostrils flare. His lips curl up to reveal his teeth and he peers at her with lust addled eyes, Human eyes. His hand slides down to cup between her legs and she gasps. Spock leans closer and slips his tongue into her mouth for a second, sucking on her lower lip before holding it between his teeth. She is transfixed by the look in his eyes, his fingers coming away from her cheek to press between her lips. She closes her mouth around them, cradling his middle and index fingers on her tongue and his whole body twitches a little, his eyes narrowing and his expression almost exactly what it is when he's just about to come. He cups her head in one hand and slowly pulls his fingers out of her mouth, nudging her with his nose and pressing a kiss to her lips. He holds her close and they stay like that for a long time, the storm seeming much less terrifying now until eventually she falls asleep, her whole body singing with the promise of what is to come.

 


	11. Chapter 11

She awakes much later to the excited grunting of chorka and the low murmur of Vulcan voices. The storm has passed over and the chorka are eager to get out, twitching with anxiety at being shut up for so long. Nyota can understand although somehow the tension she is experiencing is perhaps not quite the same. She sits up and stares at Spock's handsome face as he straightens his clothing, his eyes meeting hers for a long moment before he reaches out a hand and pulls her to her feet.

She follows him out of the cave into the sunlight without so much as a word and outside the air feels different, almost static. As they prepare to continue onward through the valley, Nyota watches with wide eyes as sparks of luminous plasma hiss and spark from the striated rocks around them. It flashes and fizzles and crackles, shooting out of the stone like tiny bolts of lightning that sometimes strike the ground to send tiny flurries of rock and dust tumbling down the rocks. She thinks of Tarik on the balcony in Gol and it seems somehow like a lifetime ago although it's barely been two days since they said goodbye.

When Spock hands her the canteen she takes it without a word and is passive as he pricks her with the hypo. He pulls her collar back a little way to expose her neck, the angry purple mark he'd made there earlier visible for all to see as he presses the needle against her skin. Sarin glances surreptitiously towards them but if Nyota might have been embarrassed or ashamed before, somehow now she really can't find it in herself to care. She feels odd, tense, coiled up like a spring, the sky above is cloudy with dust and sand and the whole area is literally humming with electricity.

She feels wide awake, in spite of her constant weariness, alive, restless.

The chorka are restless too, shifting against their reigns and after a minute they start to grunt and snort and stamp their big, clodding feet against the earth. A moment later one of them spins around sharply and lets out a snort of consternation, kicking up a cloud of dust. The other chorka start squealing and stamping their feet more purposefully and through the noise, Nyota hears rapid Vulcan voices. She spies one of the monks kind of... _dancing_  and then she sees it, a brief coiling flash of blue gray. The monk steps forward suddenly towards it, one foot coming down hard on the ground. He pauses to push his sleeves up to his elbows and she observes as he cautiously reaches down into the dust and when he stands up again, she sees that he is clutching a snake in his hands.

"K'karee," Spock tells her and she glances up to meet his eye, her interest immediately piqued.

"The sand viper," she murmurs and he nods. The dust settles and they amble towards the monk, the viper coiled up around his arm squeezing hard with a distinct look of displeasure on its little serpent face. Fortunately for the monk it is a viper not a constricter but of more concern to Nyota are the large fangs that protrude from its mouth, elegantly curved like Vulcan calligraphy in dental form. It is quite beautiful in spite of its fearsome appearance, its skin a shimmering sapphire blue rippled with silver gray and its eyes like mirrors glinting in the light. She glances up at the monk and finds him observing her curiously. "Is it deadly?" she asks. The monk shakes his head slowly.

"The venom of this species will only cause temporary paralysis," he tells her.

"Even in Humans," Spock adds and Nyota lets out a little chuff of relief. The monk lifts a finger and gently strokes it over a small strip of skin on the snake's head, his tight grip on its jaws unrelenting. As he does so it seems to Nyota that the viper calms, the angry puffing of its hood fins easing with each stroke of the monk's finger across its brow.

"The groundfire drives them out of the earth," the monk explains as he lulls the snake into an almost hypnotic trance that reminds Nyota very much of the gentle brush of Tesik's fingers across Sarin's palm. Nyota watches silently as he kneels down and the viper uncoils itself from his arm, not missing a few mottled scars on his skin that indicate he was not always so adept at handling such creatures. Very slowly, very carefully he releases his grip on its jaw and the snake lies in a twisted heap on the ground, utterly still as the monk backs away. A moment later it wakes with a start and Nyota jumps a little in surprise, watching with wide eyes as it slithers hurriedly away with an almost irritated hiss. She glances up at Spock and finds him watching her with a gentle expression on his face. When he lifts her onto the saddle once more, she's certain she feels the gentle press of his nose in her hair before a moment later he slides her hood up over her head and they move off again.

They ride on and the air grows cooler, as much as you could ever describe the Vulcan desert in such terms and the chorka come back to life, reverting from cantankerous to compliant as the promise of a good run grows closer. They pass into a long sandy corridor flanked by hills on either side and the chorka begin to move faster, not quite at full tilt but getting there. As they ride, the hills on either side recede and that long ridge that separated them from the desert begins to sink into the sand. The dunes appear once more on the horizon and Nyota takes in the view, the suns sinking fast and the Watcher taking precedence in the sky once more. In the distance Nyota hears a vague kind of screaming howl that sounds remarkably like Klingon. She peers across the hills but sees nothing until she spies a lone bird gliding briefly across the sky before disappearing over the dunes.

As the sands stretch out the chorka begin to sprint and it's such a relief to be out in the open that Nyota represses the urge to tear off her hood and let the wind blow through her hair. The air roars past her ears and her breath hitches as it rushes by so that she has to turn her face to the side to catch her breath. Spock's arms are around her and the chorka's back undulates beneath as she watches the rise and fall of the dunes as they ride. They seem to move like the sea as the chorka speed by and it's almost hypnotic, like the sand itself is moving. Of course Nyota's inner geologist knows that it  _does_ move but now, with the stars appearing and the inky black of night creeping across the sky, the dunes seem like waves about to crash, their sandy peaks rolling over themselves and downward.

It takes a moment for Nyota to register the reality of what she is witnessing but a second later it hits home with a vengeance as the ground shakes. The chorka squeals and its footing becomes slow and unsteady as it tries to fight against the sideways slide of sand beneath them. They are jostled in the saddle and Spock tugs sharply on the reigns, jerking its head back towards the cliff face. His arms are vicelike around her and Nyota is helpless, giving herself up to his protection as they hurry back to the rocks. The chorka's feet hit the ground with unsteady, lumbering steps on the sandy ground as the dunes disappear once more behind the hills. Ahead she sees the others in their group urging their chorka to climb and they follow suit, stepping up onto the ragged stone. Spock climbs down, dragging her off along with him and shoving her upwards.

"Climb!" he fairly barks at her and Nyota does not need to be told twice. She scurries up the rock face, the roaring sound of the sand rushing towards them reaching her ears from behind. The chorka needs little encouragement but its steps are unsteady on uneven ground and its limbs flail in desperation as it squeals and grunts with panic. As she moves higher, Nyota turns to see a wave of sand crash against the stone below, curling up in a dusty cloud as it explodes against the rock even as the ground shudders beneath them. Pebbles and stones clatter down around them and she falters, digging her nails into the rock as she tries to hold on. It is sharp beneath her hands and as she slips she feels the hot sting as a jagged edge slices her palm open. She winces but when she instinctively recoils in pain, she begins to slide down the rock again. Nyota clenches her jaw and clambers onward in spite of the stinging in her hand as beneath her the sand races between the cliffs and along the sandy corridor below them like a tidal race surging up a river.

Nyota watches on in awe and no small amount of terror, her heart pounding in her chest and her breath so ragged it hurts. She pulls her veil down off her face and immediately regrets it as she chokes on a lungful of dusty air, hunching forward with a cough.

"Nyota?" Spock utters, clasping her by the shoulder. Nyota looks up at him, shaking her head even as a tear escapes her eye. The chorka butts into him a little from behind and braces himself against its shoulders while it snorts against his back, nudging him in a gesture that seems to suggest concern. Nyota smiles a little.

"I'm fine," she wheezes. "Just..." she pauses to cough, her lashes fluttering against the sand in her eyes. "I'm fine," she repeats, catching her breath. Spock kneels down beside her and tilts her head up to look her in the eye for a moment before he catches sight of her hand.

"You are injured," he states, scowling beneath his hood before yanking his own veil down.

"Oh it's nothing," she assures him but Spock isn't really paying attention, taking her hand and turning it over in his palm. He says nothing but emits a huff of breath before turning to rifle through the bag tied to the chorka's saddle. As he searches for a bandage the chorka cautiously sniffs at her, its trunk snuffling down her arm towards her hand. Nyota tries to pull her hand away but the chorka follows with its nose and she starts a little as a long green tongue slides out to lick at the blood across her palm. It tickles as much as it stings and Nyota is not sure it's the wisest idea to let a Vulcan chorka lick at her Human wound so she curls her fingers together to make a kind of cage over her palm while it licks her fingers and strokes its face with her free hand instead.

"Kroykah," Spock utters at the animal, shoving it out of the way as he returns with sterilised wipe in a tiny packet. Nyota lets him gently swipe over the cut and smiles, flushing a little as he pauses between strokes to place a discreet kiss on her palm.

"Thank you," she murmurs and Spock blinks at her slowly.

"You are welcome," he murmurs.

They sit on the rocks for a while as the dust settles, Vulcan voices murmuring quietly behind them until Nyota becomes aware that Sarin is shouting. She turns to see the young woman standing on brow of the rock pointing enthusiastically.

"There!" she hollers. "Come, see!" Her father appears beside her and Nyota spies one or two of the monks turning to look in the same direction. She rises to her feet and Spock follows close behind her as they go to see what Sarin is so excited about. "Look, there!" she repeats and Nyota turns her head and peers in the direction Sarin is pointing as Spock comes to stand beside her. Her brow furrows and she tilts her head to one side as her eyes focus.

Some distance away she sees a broad sandy coloured mass emerge from the dunes, arching out of the ground with a slow, sliding movement before sinking back down into the sand. A moment later it appears again and whatever it is, it's huge, its skin yellow like the sands of the Nehfur and stark against the ruddy dunes that litter the landscape here.

"There!" Sarin repeats, shuffling along the rock a way and pointing again. "Another one!" Nyota, like everyone of them, turns to look and they see another yellow crest in the sand, smaller this time. "A calf," Sarin continues breathless with excitement. Nyota's mouth curves up in a smile, Sarin's exuberance is infectious and she turns to look Nyota right in the eye as she speaks again.

"Tcha'besheh," she explains and Nyota's tongue swipes across her lips as she tries to decipher the word. "A'kweth," Sarin elaborates at her puzzled expression and Nyota takes a moment to process.  _Underlier._  "I suppose...like your Terran  _cetaceans_ " Sarin explains, the Standard word standing out as she speaks in rapid Vulcan. Nyota blinks and drops her eyes to the ground for a second as she remembers this woman was a scientist once. She turns her gaze back to the desert, the larger Underlier appearing in the sand once more. "They live far beneath the sand," Sarin continues. "The tremors must have disturbed them."

"Very rare," Spock adds quietly and she turns to look up at him, finding him with a look of uncharacteristic awe on his face. They stand there for a long time watching as the underliers move away into the distance, disappearing into the hazy cloud of dust that drifts across the horizon and Nyota thinks on Tesik's lesson. The fragility of life. The rareness of beauty. She thinks she is beginning to understand.

As they set off again Sarin tells her it is a privilege to witness such a sight as they ride into the hills. She is animated, twisting her neck to peer back at Nyota as she explains that Vulcans know less about this species than any other creature on the planet. Spock is quiet as Nyota smiles and nods, interested and certainly feeling privileged. More than that she's happy for the distraction from the nagging cramps in her legs as Sarin prattles on about silicon based lifeforms until eventually the last sun sets and in the distance she spies the reassuring outline of a sanctuary in the hills.

They pass into a valley, the cliffs criss crossed with stone stairways leading to myriad doorways carved into the rock and Nyota feels relieved at the sight of  _trees,_ the first time she has seen them since they left Tevik-Kahr. They are at the foot of the Llangon mountains now and behind the peaks the Watcher glows brightly. Nyota looks up to see a flock of birds fly across its swirling orange face, T'Rukhemai nowhere in sight. She is thankful, hopeful even for the prospect of a night without tremors and more thankful and hopeful at the prospect of food and water as they finally reach their destination.

The Temple of Amonak is a vast, sprawling complex and as their pace slows, she cranes her neck around to take take a better look. It is ancient and beautiful and sacred and even Sarin seems to fall quiet as they move closer. As they go deeper into the valley, they are met by a number of robed figures bearing water and it occurs to her that while her own canteen is completely empty, she hasn't seen Spock drink a thing since breakfast. When a Vulcan monk approaches, pouring a cup and holding it up to him, he doesn't hesitate to accept it. He pulls down his hood and swallows it down in a few quick gulps. Nyota mimics him, uncovering her head and reaching down from her perch on the chorka's back to accept a cup. The monk watches her, his head tilting to one side like a curious cat as she drinks.

"Human," he comments and she swallows thoughtfully.

"Yes," is all she says, by now well accustomed to her eccentricity.

"Fascinating," the monk murmurs, pouring her another cup before moving on and Nyota wonders if she'll ever get used to being viewed as an oddity but puts it out of her mind as she takes in her surroundings. The temple complex is dotted with worn sculptures and much to her surprise, armed guards wearing odd beak like masks over their faces. They wield lirpas – of a kind, these are different somehow from the ones she saw in the museum in gol. She thinks of the green stone knife with the engraved blade that Spock has hidden among their belongings that she isn't supposed to know about and recalls the hissing plasma outside the cave. As they follow them across the valley floor she spies odd pairs of men sparring with one another barefoot on the sand. Some use a staff, others appear to be strangling one another with long bands of cloth while some just wrestle one another with their bare hands but  _all_ of them stare at her as they pass. She wonders if she shouldn't have put her hood back up but it's too late now.

They lead the chorka towards a kind of sandy avenue in the hills, a natural archway of rock marking the entrance engraved with that same beautiful calligraphy that cover all Vulcan shrines. Spock dismounts to lead the chorka through on foot and inside Nyota sees something she didn't expect.

Women.

Their eyes are just curious as the men outside but this time Nyota is equally inquisitive and in a way, relieved. They are young, they are old, they are fair, they are dark and their general appearance is so  _illogical_ that Nyota isn't quite sure what to make of it. Most surprising of is the sight of a child, a small boy that seems to Nyota about the same age as Soraya. He clings to his mother, she assumes, his hair a riot of curls as wild as the desert wind but his otherwise cherubic face is as cold and hard as the woman who holds him. Nyota thinks about T'Ayin and her mild eyes and soft demeanour but if she had any illusions that this would be some kind of sanctuary of feminine civility she is soon disavowed of them.

The priestess is more ruthlessly logical than any Vulcan Nyota has yet met. She is older than Sarin certainly, perhaps older even than T'Ayin but there is something almost ageless about her. She is fiercely beautiful, frighteningly so but her eyes are hard and cold and her demeanour unforgiving.

"The son of Sarek brings a Human among us," she intones in an icy voice at odds with the hot breeze that gusts in off desert. Nyota's brow furrows slightly at her words but before she contemplate how this woman knows so much about Spock the priestess speaks again. "Are our ways for outworlders?" she asks, staring right at him.

Nyota gazes at the floor in the pregnant pause that follows and feels decidedly unwelcome, her knees aching and her head like a lead weight on her shoulders.

"They are lovers," Sarin tells the priestess brazenly. Nyota feels a hot flush of embarrassment and would wish the ground would open up and swallow her but somehow that seems like tempting fate. The priestess turns and glares at her, stepping towards her with slow, purposeful steps.

"You burn for this Human, son of Sarek?" she says, standing over Nyota and staring down at her appraisingly. Nyota's brow furrows as her mind tries and fails to process the strange, old language she is speaking.

"My logic is uncertain where this one is concerned," Spock says, his voice somehow different as he answers in the same rasping dialect. Nyota bristles slightly at the implication, turning to glance at Spock and in that moment he appears to her more chillingly Vulcan than she can ever recall seeing him. The priestess looks her up and down for a minute and she holds her head high but as the woman stares at her she quails a little, a shiver going down her spine. It is eerily quiet and hotter than hell and she feels opened, exposed by the priestess' piercing gaze.

"You bring a Human to our sacred places," she chides, her eyes never faltering from Nyota.

"We seek shelter," Spock replies and the woman hesitates, her expression betraying her scepticism.

"You would have us take food from the mouths of our children, water from our wellspring for this outworlder?" she almost growls.

"A flower in the desert wilts without water," Spock replies, bowing his head low and Nyota drops her gaze to the floor as her head spins.

A protracted silence follows. The priestess hesitates, staring at them both for a long minute before turning and disappearing into a doorway in the rock behind. Nyota swallows, her throat parched and her bones aching as they stay like that for a long time, kneeling in the sand.

Eventually the woman returns.

"You will come, son of Sarek," she intones and Nyota observes as he rises and trails silently after the woman without so much as a glance in her direction. She isn't quite sure what to do but Sarin and Tavin remain kneeling with their heads bowed so she does the same, glancing surreptitiously around at the women watching them from walkways cut into the cliff, the armed guards standing like statues around the courtyard. The chorka grunt quietly in the background, Nyota hears the shuffle of their feet over the sand and the breeze as it rustles the leaves on a tree somewhere behind her.

She isn't sure how long they wait, it seems like an age and the longer she kneels there in the sand the more unsettled she becomes. She's tired, she's thirsty, she's afraid and she's never felt more like an outsider in her whole life, like a feeble Human.

After an interminable time the woman returns and when Nyota glances up, she finds her staring at her with those hard eyes.

"You will come, Human," she utters and Nyota gulps, taking a few shallow breaths before rising unsteadily to her feet.

She follows through the door in the rock and down a dark, airless passage that winds downward into the rock. Her breath is loud in her ears and she tries to quell the strange sense of foreboding that swirls in her stomach even as the scent of incense fills her nostrils. She squints, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness until eventually they reach what appears to be a shrine, torches flickering around the chamber. In the dim light she spies Spock kneeling in front of an altar against the rock and before him stands the oldest Vulcan Nyota has ever seen. She is wearing ornate robes studded with huge orange stones that seem to glow like magma in the torchlight. On her head she wears a head dress that casts a long shadow on the wall behind, a dark flickering V against the stone. As Nyota enters the younger priestess comes to a halt just inside the door and Nyota swallows back her apprehension as the old woman turns to look her in the eye.

Nyota is frozen by her stare and in her mind she hears whispering voices but she can't understand what they are saying. They stand in silence for a long time until the High Priestess finally speaks.

"The son is much like the father," she comments, her voice warbling and cracked with age. "Come, Human," she urges, reaching her hand out towards Nyota. She swallows and steps cautiously forward until she's standing at the foot of the steps in front of the altar. She glances at Spock but his head remains bowed and she cannot see his face. Nyota licks her lips and kneels on the hard stone. "A beauty," the old woman says, peering down her nose at where Nyota is perched on the step before her. She clenches her jaw, holding the old woman's gaze and after a moment the High Priestess steps closer. She holds her hand out towards Nyota's face in a gesture that she instantly recognises, hesitating for a moment until she dips her head in assent.

The touch of the old woman's mind is nothing like Spock's. Where his is soft, warm, fuzzy at the edges hers is sharp and clear like crystal, cold and cutting and unfailingly logical. Nyota's head spins as the old woman rifles through her memories, her thoughts, her feelings and when the connection ceases Nyota gasps and hunches forward on the steps feeling exposed, bereft.

"She has the body of a woman," the High Priestess tells her. "But the mind of a child." Nyota scowls, inhaling a sharp breath through her nose.

"And you have a heart of stone," she sputters, anger flashing through her as much at the callousness of her mind touch as her words. The High Priestess is unmoved.

"And what know you of the Vulcan heart, Human?" she drawls. Nyota jaw quivers and she takes shallow, rasping breaths. Spock is silent, stone like beside her and she feels ashamed and then she feels angry at her shame. "What know you of the Vulcan soul?"

"I...I..." she stammers, her face screwing up as words fail her. "I thought I knew," she whispers plaintively, her shoulders slouching dejectedly. The priestess raises a brow and observes her with pitying eyes.

"This one is within you," she says coolly after a moment and Nyota's brow furrows, glancing to Spock to find him staring at her. "You are indeed your father's son, Spock," she adds ominously a moment later. "Go now," she commands in an imperious voice. "Take what you need from us, do what must be done. Ko-kai!"

Nyota hears the imperceptible shuffle of footsteps across the chamber as the younger woman approaches, her head bowed deferentially. "A flower in the desert wilts without water," the old woman tells the younger. Nyota is getting more and more confused by the minute.

"Ha, t'sai," the young woman says with a bow. "Come," she intones, looking Nyota in the eye. She swallows and glances at Spock as he rises to his feet, his gaze fixed on her with those same wild eyes she'd seen in the cave. Her lashes flutter and she holds his gaze for a moment before she does the same.

"Live long and prosper, Spock, son of Sarek," the High Priestess utters, raising her hand. Spock returns the salute and Nyota isn't sure why but she finds herself doing the same as he speaks for the first time since she entered.

"Peace and long life," he replies and then the High Priestess turns away, disappearing into the shadows as the younger woman leads them towards the door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hi there dear readers! Sorry for the unspeakably long hiatus, my life just isn't conducive to fic writing binges. After a while you just can't say no to people you've been putting off for weeks just so you can tend to your secret Star Trek obsession. 
> 
> Just to remind everyone that this is an M rated fic and yes, this chapter is explicit. I hope you enjoy it and for those of you who aren't into smut, there will be more Vulcan wonderment coming up in the next chapters so please don't let it put you off. I can't promise that the erotic content will be entirely done after this installment but you might have noticed from other fics of mine that I cannot resist Human on Vulcan loving.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to LambsEar and Valyria who have patiently waited an entire year for this scenario. I hope it doesn't disappoint. Peace and Long Life to you all, PQ xxxx

 

 

Nyota isn't quite sure how she feels as the emerge from the shrine to the dusty courtyard above. Her throat is parched and her head is buzzing as she steps through the doorway to stand beside Spock and the priestess on the sandy ground. _This one is within you._ She isn't entirely sure what it means but she at that moment she doesn't really have a chance to think about it.

 

Female faces line the walkways cut into the cliffs around them and the masked guards stand in an ominous silence, firelight flickering off the polished blades of their lirpas. To one side Nyota spies Sarin who glances up and holds her gaze and it is equal parts comforting and disturbing in the midst of these strange people. Spock too turns and looks at her long and hard, the Human aspect of his eyes at odds with the relentless stares of the Vulcans that are watching them, watching her. She parts her lips as though to speak but no words come out and she watches silently as he turns away to walk with measured steps across the sand. He crosses the ground to stand before flaming torch that burns in a broad, brassy colored bowl at the foot of a set of stairs cut into the rock. He turns to look at her for a moment before he stoops, picks up a handful of sand and hurls it into the fire. Bright green flames shoot up a few feet into the air and the fire hisses and crackles, a billowing cloud of smoke belching upwards before drifting across the courtyard in a ghostlike fog. Nyota watches with wide eyes, her heart in her throat as the armed guards begin to stamp their lirpas against the dusty ground over and over. Spock turns back to her and fairly prowls across the sand towards her with a predatory gleam in his eyes, the menacing thud of the lirpas sounding ominously around the cliffs. She starts as beside her, the priestess strikes a gong and a moment later gasps in surprise as Spock steps closer and scoops her up into his arms. She wraps her arms around his neck and holds on tight as all around the air is filled with the sudden, terrifying sound of Vulcan women _ululating_. To say that she is shocked would be perhaps the grossest understatement of her life and the entire scenario is so illogical that she's dizzy as Spock spins and turns to carry her across the sand. She looks back at Sarin to see her expression almost rapturous before she tilts her head back to join in with the cacophony that echoes around the hillside.

 

Spock's stride is purposive, determined as he carries her towards the stairs, trailing behind the priestess and flanked on either side by guards. They move upwards, following the staircase as it curves around and around the cliff. They surrounded on all sides by the wild eyed stares of the women that line their path, the relentless banshee-like noise and the strange metallic scent of the smoke wafting upwards on the hot breeze. Spock's expression is inscrutable but his arms are strong and sure around her. He stares straight ahead avoiding her eyes but as she gazes at his profile he seems to emanate something....a kind of smug satisfaction that she finds disconcertingly familiar. She can't deny the flicker of irritation that burns inside of her at his overt machismo even as she's still reeling from the evening's events but it's only now in his arms that she will admit to herself that she's dog tired, bone weary and aching all over. Her eyes fall closed and she goes limp, dropping her head against his shoulder and gives herself up to his charge.

 

Eventually they come to a doorway in the rock, the guards hanging back and the priestess stepping aside to let them pass. Without hesitation Spock carries her through a dim passage and into a cave – cool, spartan but undeniably _cozy_. The light from a gently flickering asenoi casts the room in a soothing glow and on the floor is spread a large rug, plush and soft like sheepskin.

 

Nyota is so relieved when Spock gently lays her down against the fuzzy blanket that she melts into it, letting out a long weary sigh as she lies back amid the soft pile. Spock squats beside her and reaches for her boots, gently sliding them off her feet and setting them to one side as she sluggishly pushes up on her elbows too look at him. He looks tired, his hair an unruly, adorable mess and his face shadowed by two days of beard growth. She doesn't protest as he reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it up over her head, observing him with a sad, sleepy smile as he slowly folds it and places it to one side.

 

“Spock,” she murmurs and when he turns back to her, his expression strangely tender, at odds with the unrelenting logic of the Vulcans they left outside.

 

“Ashayam,” he says quietly, softly stroking the back of his fingers over her cheekbone. If she wanted to be angry with him for his coldness in the shrine, at this moment her heart somehow won't comply. She leans into his touch and closes her eyes as she presses a tiny kiss against the back of his hand. Without another word he guides her gently down onto the fuzzy rug beneath and she wiggles her hips as he slides her pants down her legs, gently undressing her until she lies in just her underwear. Nyota takes a deep breath and lets her head loll to the side, her lashes fluttering as he leans over her to press a kiss against her forehead and then, in spite of all the thoughts racing through her mind, she falls finally, blissfully, deeply asleep.

 

She wakes some time later to an eery quiet, the air still save for the sound of the desert wind whistling ghostlike along the passageway outside. She twists her neck around and peers around the empty cave, spying a low stone table to one side on which sits a jug of water. Her thirst returns with a vengeance and she scurries forward to pour herself a drink, emptying the cup in a matter of seconds before reaching for the jug once more. Glancing around she notices her clothes folded neatly on top of a _tho'san_ across the room - a meditation stone set beneath the typical Vulcan calligraphy carved into the wall. A small green asenoi sits beside it flickering softly and Nyota takes a moment to take in the the relative comfort of the room compared with their previous quarters.

 

The décor is simple, certainly but the gently curving walls are carved with elegant glyphs and the floor is free of dust. The rug she finds herself wrapped in is so thick and soft she barely notices the hard stone floor beneath and although it warm it is not cloying and airless like last night's accommodations. She takes a few, slow breaths and tries to relax as the small asenoi casts gentle shadows around the room, flopping back against the cushions as her body and her brain catch up with one another.

 

She floats in between waking and sleeping for a while, dimly aware that Spock has returned. She hears the gentle scrape of stone against stone and peeks at him through her lashes. She watches as he peels his shirt off and drops it onto the tho'san, the contours of his chest shadowed by the soft light. She blinks and watches the flex of his muscles as he reaches down to hoist a large ceramic jug like an ancient Roman amphora into his arms. The sound of water flowing seems unnaturally loud in the stillness of the cave as does the soft clank as he sets the pitcher back down on the ground. Nyota observes as he leans forward, picks up a stone bowl from the table and lifts it up over his head. She watches slack jawed as he empties the contents slowly over himself, his gasp at the sudden shock of cold against his skin doing strange but not unfamiliar things to her insides. 

 

The water douses him, his hair growing glossy and black and his skin glistening in the pale light of the asenoi. Droplets of water cascade across his chest and cling to the dark fuzz of hair that covers his body, glittering diamond like. His skin glistens, a faint green blush just perceptible in the dim light. He is beautiful and Nyota cannot tear her eyes away. She stares he rubs his palm roughly over his stubbly face and shakes his head, slicking his wet hair back and turning to look at with dark, piercing eyes. She swallows hard.

 

“You are awake,” he murmurs and she swallows as he steps towards her, pushing up onto her elbows as he approaches. He crouches down, reaching up to stroke his hand through her hair as it hangs askew around her face. A hair-tie sits loosely amid the riot of curls around her shoulders and Spock gently plucks it away before stroking down the side of her head. She sways a little under his touch, her eyes falling closed as he speaks. “How do you feel?” he asks and she licks her lips, her brow quirking slightly at the irony inherent in his question.

 

“I....” she croaks. Her voice is husky from sleep and she licks her lips as he watches her with dark eyes. “I'm thirsty,” she manages after a moment and Spock nods, brushing her hair out of her eyes and tucking it gently behind her ear before he rises to his feet. He crosses to the table and pours her a cup of water, squatting down beside her once more as she takes it from him and drinks.

 

“Your body temperature is unnaturally elevated,” he comments and she takes a moment to process.

 

“You think I'm heat stroked?” she asks in a cracked, rasping voice, peering up at him through her lashes. It would certainly explain why she feels so odd, simultaneously asleep and awake, her limbs buzzing with a strange energy she cannot place.

 

“Perhaps,” he replies, looking at her with a strange expression before he rises and turns to cross the room. She watches through her hair as he rifles through the bag that sits against the wall and a moment later he returns with the hypo in his hand. When he pricks her with it, she turns her face away from him petulantly. “You are displeased,” he observes and she gulps. _Just Human,_ she wants to say but there is something in his eyes that unnerves her and she can't bring herself to voice her thoughts.

 

“I'm hungry,” she mutters instead, staring at the wall and she hears him take a slow, thoughtful breath behind her. There is the shuffle of his footsteps and a moment later he retrieves a bowl of fruit from the table. He kneels in front of her and sets it down, picking a piece of fruit up and turning it around in his palm. He keeps it for a moment, watching her with those strange, dark eyes before holding it out towards her.

 

“ _Yon-savas,_ ” he tells her. Firefruit. Nyota holds his gaze, hesitating for a minute before she takes it from him and raises it slowly to her lips. “They grow wild in the mountains,” he explains as she takes a cautious bite.

 

As soon as the juice hits her tongue, all other sentiments seem to flee her brain as she is overwhelmed by the thought that this _yon-savas_ is the single most delicious thing she's ever tasted. She lets out a low groan and closes her eyes as the sweet aroma fills her nostrils. Her hunger surprises her and she realizes that she can't remember when she last ate – was it really kreila and tea at breakfast? She hums with pleasure and her eyes falls closed as she devours the fruit and when she opens them she finds Spock still hovering there beside her watching her intently. She swallows and licks her lips before she speaks.

 

“Aren't you hungry?” she murmurs and Spock shakes his head slowly. She drops her eyes to the ground and glances to one side, taking another bite of the firefruit and chewing slowly until eventually he rises to his feet and pads silently across the room.

 

She peeks up at him, watching as he hoists the amphora into his arms once more and fills the bowl again. She sucks on the fruit for a moment as she observes the shaded lines of muscles in his back in the dim light of the asenoi but when he turns and catches her staring at him, she looks away again and takes a loud, crunching bite. She isn't sure why it bothers her so much that he knows she's watching him but there's something about him that she can't quite place, although perhaps, if she is honest, she might also admit that whatever it is also thrills her. He's been different since they came into the desert, domineering in a way that she hadn't expected although she wonders why given his reputation at the Academy. 

 

She licks her lips and sucks a drop of juice from the tip of her thumb, the falvor of firefruit stong on the back of her tongue as she stares at his body with a lasciviousness that surprises her. He plucks a small cloth like a flannel from the table and folds it carefully, once, twice, three times before he drops it into the water. She takes another bite of the  _yon-savas_ , the ensuing crunch seeming unnaturally loud in the silence. Her nostrils flare as she chews, staring at the sculpted lines of his torso and the smooth bulge of his bicep as he lifts the bowl and turns towards her. She thinks vaguely that she was supposed to be angry or annoyed with him or something but she can't really remember why . She worries her teeth on the stone in the fruit and in that moment all she can really think is how very much she wants to bite him. She slurps at the firefruit and looks away as he approaches.

 

Spock sinks down onto his knees, setting the bowl down before he lets his eyes rove across her body. Her heart flutters in her chest and her breaths grow shallower and sharper as he leans a little closer, reaching out to circle his fingers around her ankles. She gasps in surprise, her head falling back against the pillows and her hair fanning out behind her as Spock drags her across the blanket towards him. She lays prone before him, panting hard as he just stares at her, his eyes sweeping over her to linger for a long moment between her legs.

 

She shivers but not with cold.

 

Spock licks his lips and glances up at her eyes for a second, his hands stroking slowly up her shins, across her knees and down along her thighs. She gulps as he leans forward, one hand resting on her hip as the other reaches for her hand and pulls her upright. Her chest rises and falls with every breath and Spock's lips curl up ever so slightly at the edges, his expression at once playful and feral. Nyota holds his eyes and props herself up on her free hand as he plucks the sticky _yon-savas_ stone from her fingers, tossing it carelessly behind him. Her hands are sticky with juice and the sweet fragrance of the firefruit lingers in the air between them. Her wrist clasped gently in his hand he takes a moment to press her fingers to his lips and slowly, one by one, sucks them into his mouth. Nyota gasps, a bolt of arousal jolting through her like sandfire and a familiar throb setting up residence between her legs as he sucks the traces of juice off her fingers. Spock narrows his eyes at her and pulls her thumb from between his lips before he lifts the wet cloth to her hand and slowly cleans away the sticky residue that covers her skin. Nyota chews on her lip and stares at his face, his eyes following the trail of the cloth as he works his way slowly up her arm.

 

He takes his time and Nyota feels the slow, agonizing burn of arousal building in her limbs, an unscratchable itch beneath her skin. The room is silent but for the heavy rasp of their breath and the gentle slosh of water around the bowl. He holds her head gently in his palm and washes her face with an almost paternal tenderness that is at odds with the wildness she sees in his eyes. His breath is hot against her ear and the damp cloth is cool against her fevered skin as he leans closer to lift her hair away from her neck and swipe around her shoulders. As he leans back to sit on his haunches, she closes her eyes and gulps hard when his nose brushes against her cheek. She peeks through her lashes at the muscles in his torso twitching beneath his skin as he twists to the side to plunge the cloth back into the water and as the water trickles back into the bowl with a delicate splash, wetness pools between her legs.

 

Spock's nostrils flare and he glances at her sideways, seeming to her in that moment so utterly Vulcan that it makes her ache all over. Whatever this place is and why ever he brought her here, Nyota knows at least that it means something even if she's not quite sure yet what that is.

 

Slowly, he moves closer and reaches around her back to loosen her bra, stroking his fingers around her body and dragging them down her arms as he peels the scrap of material away. He holds her gaze the entire time and the look in his eyes makes her heart flutter wildly in her chest. She knows that look, she _adores_ that look but somehow seeing it now, here, in this place, that look makes her _burn_.

 

Casting the flimsy black scrap away Spock reaches for the cloth once more, the cold water turning her nipples into hard nubs that strain towards his touch as he swipes gently over her skin. Nyota groans a little but Spock is unmoved, staring at her with a vague smugness that drives her out of her mind. He moves lower and she bites her lip to stifle a whimper as he squeezes the cloth over the apex of her thighs, a slow stream of water dripping over the fabric of her underwear and soaking it through. Nyota moans and presses her crotch into his hand as he swipes across the damp material with the cloth, his eyes tracking the movement of his fingers as he catches the elastic and tugs at it lightly.

 

“Spock,” she gasps and he glances at her through narrowed eyes as the backs of his fingers brush against her sex with only the lightest of touches. Nyota pants, her thighs trembling as her hips jerk up of their own volition against his hand where it lies trapped against her skin by the elastic of her underwear. The corner of his mouth twitches as he strokes her and as he turns back to the bowl, the fingers of one hand pulls teasingly in the scrap of fabric between her legs. Nyota huffs a dissatisfied breath and leans a little closer. “Spock,” she repeats in a pathetic tone and when he turns back to her, his nose brushes against hers for a moment. She sighs a little as he peers down at her, her mouth so close to his and she closes her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. The fingers in her underwear stroke torturously over the outer folds of her sex, teasing, tormenting but still he doesn't _really_ touch her, not like she wants. Moments pass, still she doesn't feel the brush of his lips against hers and she scowls. Opening her eyes she leans forward, intent on capturing his lips with her own but Spock pulls back just out of reach. Nyota's frown grows deeper and she reaches up to wrap one hand around his neck, intent on pulling him closer but then she gasps in surprises as the hand in her panties slides upward to wrap around her throat. He narrows his eyes and nips at her lips, taunting but still he denies her and she whimpers. At the sound, strong fingers flex around her neck and she feels his arousal tingling through his fingertips at the way her throat twitches beneath his palm. She pants, her eyes falling closed as she feels the hot brush of his breath against her cheek. Her throat feels dry, parched and she swallows hard as Spock nudges the side of her face with the tip of his nose. One finger brushes over her lips, pressing into her mouth and she hums, cradling his finger against her tongue. He pulls back ever so slightly and her eyes dart to the side, her breath catching at the sight of his eye so close to hers. The slant of his brow is fierce and alien and her insides clench hotly as he scrapes his teeth across her jawbone.

 

She hears the trickle of water and sees a shadow of movement and a moment later, cool fluid rushes across her brow from above. He squeezes the cloth dry and she gasps, her eyes falling closed as water runs down her face. Droplets gather on her nose and lips before they slide down her chin and drip slowly onto her chest. Spock pulls his finger out of her mouth and reaches forward to suck the droplets from her lower lip and she groans, a merciless throb pulsing between her legs. Her hands fly to his chest and she digs her nails in, tangling her fingers in the coarse hair that peppers his body and he grunts a little. The hand at her throat squeezes imperceptibly tighter as his tongue slips finally between her lips, hot and demanding and she moans in pleasure. She rakes her nails across his skin, sliding ever downward and hooking her fingers into the belt loops on his pants in an effort to pull him closer. Spock growls into her mouth and she yelps as she finds herself flipped and pressed face down into the soft blanket beneath her. Spock snorts in amusement as she wriggles beneath his hands, squealing with lustful indignation. Pushing up on his knees, he towers over her and one hand tangles in her hair as the other makes short work of her underwear. Nyota gasps and Spock emits a strange, strangled bark almost like laughter but the sound is so alien it makes her head spin. She writhes beneath him as his fingers slide along the crease of her ass, squirming as he continues to torture her with teasing strokes that make her insides clench with need. She pushes up on her arms only to find herself pressed back down into the rug by a firm hand between the shoulders. She fights against him, the soft fuzz of the blanket beneath tickling the hard nubs of her nipples and when she reaches back to claw at him blindly Spock's hand grips her shoulder and she yelps as he pulls her upright once more. 

 

A hand on her throat, he tilts her head back against his shoulder and peers down his nose at her. Nyota glares at him through narrowed eyes, her chest heaving and her hair obscuring her vision. Spock's nostrils flare and he holds her place with a hand around her neck, his free hand reaching up to brush away the hair from her eyes with a touch that is incongruously tender. Nyota stills, her breathing slows and a moment later he leans closer to press his lips against hers. He kisses her softly, gently pressing his lips to hers as his hand moves lower, stroking slowly down her chest to cup her breasts one by one. He captures each nipple in the V of his fingers, tugging lightly and making her groan. The muscles of her stomach flutter as he strokes lower still until his hand moves between her legs once more. She tenses, twitching in his arms as he teases her again, circling, stroking, caressing with only the lightest of touches. She whines against his mouth, a pitiful, pleading sound and Spock let's out that strange bark of amusement, pecking her on the lips once, twice, three times until he decides she's waited long enough. She gasps as he slips two fingers into her, a hard sudden movement that makes her whole body rear up off the floor. Spock catches her lower lip in his teeth and pulls his fingers out, stroking around and around before he presses deep once more. This time she bears down against his hand, her hips grinding against his palm with each press of his fingers inside of her. Again, he pushes deep and twists his wrist, eliciting a needy moan from Nyota as he holds her fast against his chest with one strong hand around her throat.

 

“Spock,” she whines, her face screwing up with pleasure and need as he continues his assault between her legs. His nostrils flare, his eyes narrow and his lips curl up in a fiendish grin. He gives that same strange snarl and she shudders as she feels his tongue hot and wet slide along her cheek, thick fingers pressing deep within her. Nyota moans in approval, grinding her hips back against him as he presses ever deeper. She pushes back against his touch and he increases the speed of his movements, an obscene noise emanating from between her legs and she screws her face up, flushing hotly with pleasure even as her head spins with the knowledge that they are doing this here, now, in this place. She imagines Vulcan guards patrolling the walkways outside and wonders if they can hear her? Spock's fingers are stroking, searching, seeking out that sweet spot that makes her gasp and when he finds it she squeals unashamedly, her whole body tensing up beneath him. Nyota is frozen by the look in his eyes and even though she knows what's coming she is still unprepared for the sudden shock of pleasure that racks her body. He pinches, in that maddening Vulcan way of his and all coherent thought finally flees her mind. Her breath is stolen from her lungs and goes stiff in his arms and her eyes screwing up. Her face contorts with pleasure so sudden and so electrifying that her head swims. She cries out, pathetic stuttering whimpers that tumble unbidden from her lips.

 

She's trembling as he lays her gently down onto the rug, utterly compliant as he rolls her over and spreads her legs. Spock takes his time, stroking over her aching center with touches that go from light to rough. She twitches beneath him, little aftershocks of pleasure sparking up through her body from between her legs. She peers up at him through her lashes as she catches her breath.

 

_You cheated,_ she thinks but Spock is unrepentant, peering down at her with a smug, lustful expression. 

 

Unrepentant but not unmerciful. He kneels down and kisses her softly on the lips before making his way down her body. He lingers at her breasts, sliding the flat of his tongue wetly across each nipple before sucking them between his lips. She groans and arches her back at the gentle scrape of his teeth over the sensitive tip, gasping as he chuffs a little breath over her sensitized flesh. Eventually he settles his head between her thighs and she sighs with pleasure, her hand coming to rest on the back of his head as his nose nuzzles the slippery folds of her sex. Nyota lets her head fall back against the rug and pants hard as Spock trails his tongue wetly over her, the silence of the cave broken by the lurid sounds of lips against her and the harsh rasp of her breath. Her chest heaves and she trembles as he nuzzles her stomach, crawling up over her prone form to catch her lips in a hungry kiss. She kisses his back eagerly, running her fingers through his hair and moaning at the scent of herself on his face. It makes her ache with need and she wraps her thighs around his hips, desperate and demanding. Spock moans into her mouth and grinds back, the hard lump in his pants pressing teasingly against her clit. When he pushes back onto his knees to peer down at her she feels bereft, reaching upto stroke her hands over his ears. She cups his jaw in her palms as she looks up at him with a pouting, childish expression.

 

“Spock,” she breathes, her face screwing up and he smiles against her palm, catching her arms and scraping his teeth over the crease of her wrists. Nyota presses her teeth into her lower lip and runs her palms over the thick, dark hairs that cover his forearms, humming with pleasure as she lets her eyes rove his body. He's gorgeous and male and Vulcan and just the sight of him turns her into the most degenerate, illogical of creatures, a seething mass of primal emotions. She used to be embarrassed by it, by her lustful Humanity but now as he stares at her with dark eyes, fierce brows furrowed even as his lip is curled in a devilish grin she feels only desire.

 

She breathes hard and clenches her teeth, holding his gaze as he reaches for the button of his fly. Nyota licks her lips in anticipation, admiring the V of muscles where his stomach meets his hips. She traces her nails along it, trailing down the line of dark hair that creeps downward over his skin to disappear into the dark thatch of unruly hair between his legs. Spock kneels up a little to push his pants down and she slides her palms around his hips to squeeze his ass, pressing a toothy little kiss against his chest. She lets one fingers stroke along the crease of his backside while the other snakes around to where the hard length of his erection lays trapped against his thigh.

 

“Haaaa,” he stutters as her fingers circle the throbbing heat of him, a snarling rasping exhalation as he tugs her head back and drags her up for a hard, searing kiss. Nyota gasps, groaning as he pulls on her hair and devours her mouth. She rakes her nails up across his back, buries her fingers in his hair and scrapes roughly across his scalp, catching the points of his ear and making him growl. Nyota pulls back and holds his gaze as she begins to stroke him, her breath coming in short, sharp pants that brush hotly against his face. Both hands around him now she caresses him slowly, her movements growing gradually more forceful and the sharp panting of his breath growing faster in tandem with each stroke of her hand. Spock's lips curl back to reveal clenched teeth and he mutters incomprehensibly as he presses his mouth to hers again. Nyota's eyes fall closed and groans as he tongue slides into her mouth again until he tugs on her hair and pulls back to look her right in the eye. Spock's nostrils are flaring, his breath coming as hard and fast as her own and she can feel the want pouring off of him. His gaze drops from her eyes to her mouth and back again and she exhales a ragged breath before she pushes up on her knees a way and kisses him hard once more. Spock staggers back a little, catching himself on his hands as one hand finds its way into his hair, slick and heavy with moisture. He moans loudly as she bites at his jaw, his throat, presses the flat of her tongue into the the dip of his collarbone. Torturously, in revenge for his earlier teasing she kisses her way down his heaving chest, shuffling backwards as she grows closer to her intended destination. Spock hums deliriously, rubbing his palms firmly down her back, squeezing the soft, round swell of her ass as his hard length brushes against her cheek.

 

She presses tiny, teasing kisses at the base of his shaft and he groans long and loud, his hands fumbling to gather her hair up away from her face so that he can watch as she finally takes him in her mouth. She hums around the hot length of him and he pants, ragged rasping breaths through clenched teeth as he watches his erection disappear between her lips again and again. As her head moves, tendrils of hair escape his grip and as he strokes them away from her face, his fingertips brush against her cheekbones to send tiny sparks of psionic energy through her body. Nyota shudders and moans as his desire surges through her, his cock leaving her mouth with a loud, wet pop as she finds herself unceremoniously shoved back against the rug behind her. She yelps in surprise, her breath leaving her body in a stuttering gasp as he looms over her. Spock's fingers dig into her thighs as he drags her towards him, his face shadowed by the dim light of the asenoi and exaggerating the points of his ears. She groans, her eyes screwing up as his runs his hand over her body with firm strokes. He traces the shape of her sex with the pads of his thumbs and the obscene smack of his fingers against her wet flesh makes her eyes roll back in her head. She flushes, her pussy clenching with need as the wide head of his erection brushes against her thigh.

 

She's tense, coiled up like a spring but when he clasps her hips and flips her over she does not resist. Nyota braces herself on her hands as he drags her back so that her ass is flush against his stomach, his erection sliding along the crease of her backside and bumping the tight knot of her ass. She pants wildly, blowing her hair away from her face as sweat trickles down her forehead. It's too hot, she can't breathe and her head is spinning as she groans, delirious with arousal. He inhales deeply, dragging his lips over her skin, his teeth scraping over the vertebra of her spine and making her twitch uncontrollably as he moves lower. When he pulls back she takes deep, gasping breaths as she feels the heavy weight of his erection slide between her legs, hot, hard and insistent.

 

_This one is within you._

 

And then he is.

 

Nyota doesn't even try to hold back the undignified noise that falls out of her as he slides into her in one long, hard thrust. She clutches the rug in her hands and wails as he presses deep, drawing back almost completely before he presses in deep again. She's wailing, a pitiful keening cry as he fucks her, all care about being overheard abandoned at the pleasure coursing through her. Spock's hands are hard on her hipbones, gripping onto her tight enough to bruise and tugging on her hair painfully. She doesn't hold back, unconcerned by now at the noise she's making. Spock is not exactly silent and the sounds coming out of him are driving her out of her mind as much as the feeling of his hard length filling her. She feels wanton, depraved, degenerate. She feels rather than hears those whispering voices in the back of her mind, Vulcan voices at once ancient and alien. _Os-shidik,_ they seem to say and her head spins. Yes, Nyota thinks. _Os-shidik._

 

“Haaa,” Spock snarls again and the sound goes right to her core. She sobs, pleasure wracking her as every muscle in her body goes tense. She sags limply against the blanket, struggling for breath as her heart hammers in her chest. Spock leans closer, his chest pressing against her back as he nudges the side of her face with his nose. She whimpers as she feels teeth scraping against the back of her neck, crying out feebly as he sinks his teeth into her shoulder and drives into her again and again. She is powerless in his arms when he flips her over onto her back and pushes her legs up, his hands on either side of her head as he enters her once more. She gasps as he drives into her, his pace frenzied, wild, his expression deranged with lust like she's never seen before.

 

“Spo-ock,” she cries, her face screwing up and a pitiful sob tumbling out of her chest. He clenches his teeth and from the furrow of his brow she can tell that he's close but as good as it feels, there's something missing. The thought has barely formed and Spock falters for just a moment, fixing her with a wide eyed look.

 

The moment his hand connects with her face her eyes roll back in her head and she moans at the heady sensation of his lust addled consciousness seeping into hers. She loves him, she loves his body and the way he touches her but this.....this something she can't do without, not anymore. He's inside her, in every possible way and it's......it's indescribable. It is loving, it is tender, it is rough, it is aggressive. It is him and her together. It is terrifying, emotional, mental and physical. It is Human. It is Vulcan. It is not logical. It is something far more powerful, a universal compulsion that no-one can resist. It is _os-shidik._

 

Primitive.

 


End file.
